The Social Cancer - 29

"My sister and I were left alone. She wept a great deal, but even
in the midst of such great sorrows as heaped themselves upon us,
she could not forget her love. Without complaining, without uttering
a word, she saw her former sweetheart married to another girl, but I
watched her gradually sicken without being able to console her. One
day she disappeared, and it was in vain that I sought everywhere,
in vain I made inquiries about her. About six months afterwards I
learned that about that time, after a flood on the lake, there had
been found in some rice fields bordering on the beach at Kalamba,
the corpse of a young woman who had been either drowned or murdered,
for she had had, so they said, a knife sticking in her breast. The
officials of that town published the fact in the country round about,
but no one came to claim the body, no young woman apparently had
disappeared. From the description they gave me afterward of her dress,
her ornaments, the beauty of her countenance, and her abundant hair,
I recognized in her my poor sister.
"Since then I have wandered from province to province. My reputation
and my history are in the mouths of many. They attribute great deeds
to me, sometimes calumniating me, but I pay little attention to men,
keeping ever on my way. Such in brief is my story, a story of one of
the judgments of men."
Elias fell silent as he rowed along.
"I still believe that you are not wrong," murmured Crisostomo in a low
voice, "when you say that justice should seek to do good by rewarding
virtue and educating the criminals. Only, it's impossible, Utopian! And
where could be secured so much money, so many new employees?"
"For what, then, are the priests who proclaim their mission of peace
and charity? Is it more meritorious to moisten the head of a child
with water, to give it salt to eat, than to awake in the benighted
conscience of a criminal that spark which God has granted to every
man to light him to his welfare? Is it more humane to accompany
a criminal to the scaffold than to lead him along the difficult
path from vice to virtue? Don't they also pay spies, executioners,
civil-guards? These things, besides being dirty, also cost money."
"My friend, neither you nor I, although we may wish it, can accomplish
this."
"Alone, it is true, we are nothing, but take up the cause of the
people, unite yourself with the people, be not heedless of their
cries, set an example to the rest, spread the idea of what is called
a fatherland!"
"What the people ask for is impossible. We must wait."
"Wait! To wait means to suffer!"
"If I should ask for it, the powers that be would laugh at me."
"But if the people supported you?"
"Never! I will never be the one to lead the multitude to get by force
what the government does not think proper to grant, no! If I should
ever see that multitude armed I would place myself on the side of the
government, for in such a mob I should not see my countrymen. I desire
the country's welfare, therefore I would build a schoolhouse. I seek
it by means of instruction, by progressive advancement; without light
there is no road."
"Neither is there liberty without strife!" answered Elias.
"The fact is that I don't want that liberty!"
"The fact is that without liberty there is no light," replied the
pilot with warmth. "You say that you are only slightly acquainted
with your country, and I believe you. You don't see the struggle that
is preparing, you don't see the cloud on the horizon. The fight is
beginning in the sphere of ideas, to descend later into the arena,
which will be dyed with blood. I hear the voice of God--woe unto them
who would oppose it! For them History has not been written!"
Elias was transfigured; standing uncovered, with his manly face
illuminated by the moon, there was something extraordinary about
him. He shook his long hair, and went on:
"Don't you see how everything is awakening? The sleep has lasted for
centuries, but one day the thunderbolt [136] struck, and in striking,
infused life. Since then new tendencies are stirring our spirits,
and these tendencies, today scattered, will some day be united, guided
by the God who has not failed other peoples and who will not fail us,
for His cause is the cause of liberty!"
A solemn silence followed these words, while the banka, carried along
insensibly by the waves, neared the shore.
Elias was the first to break the silence. "What shall I tell those
who sent me?" he asked with a change from his former tone.
"I've already told you: I greatly deplore their condition, but
they should wait. Evils are not remedied by other evils, and in our
misfortunes each of us has his share of blame."
Elias did not again reply, but dropped his head and rowed along until
they reached the shore, where he took leave of Ibarra: "I thank you,
sir, for the condescension you have shown me. Now, for your own good,
I beg of you that in the future you forget me and that you do not
recognize me again, no matter in what situation you may find me."
So saying, he drew away in the banka, rowing toward a thicket on the
shore. As he covered the long distance he remained silent, apparently
intent upon nothing but the thousands of phosphorescent diamonds
that the oar caught up and dropped back into the lake, where they
disappeared mysteriously into the blue waves.
When he had reached the shadow of the thicket a man came out of it
and approached the banka. "What shall I tell the capitan?" he asked.
"Tell him that Elias, if he lives, will keep his word," was the
sad answer.
"When will you join us, then?"
"When your capitan thinks that the hour of danger has come."
"Very well. Good-by!"
"If I don't die first," added Elias in a low voice.


CHAPTER LI
Exchanges

The bashful Linares was anxious and ill at ease. He had just received
from Doña Victorina a letter which ran thus:

DEER COZIN within 3 days i expec to here from you if the
alferes has killed you or you him i dont want anuther day to
pass befour that broot has his punishment if that tim passes
an you havent challenjed him ill tel don santiago you was
never segretary nor joked with canobas nor went on a spree
with the general don arseño martinez ill tel clarita its all
a humbug an ill not give you a sent more if you challenje him
i promis all you want so lets see you challenje him i warn you
there must be no excuses nor delays yore cozin who loves you
VICTORINA DE LOS REYES DE DE ESPADAÑA
sampaloc monday 7 in the evening

The affair was serious. He was well enough acquainted with the
character of Doña Victorina to know what she was capable of. To talk
to her of reason was to talk of honesty and courtesy to a revenue
carbineer when he proposes to find contraband where there is none,
to plead with her would be useless, to deceive her worse--there was
no way out of the difficulty but to send the challenge.
"But how? Suppose he receives me with violence?" he soliloquized,
as he paced to and fro. "Suppose I find him with his señora? Who will
be willing to be my second? The curate? Capitan Tiago? Damn the hour
in which I listened to her advice! The old toady! To oblige me to
get myself tangled up, to tell lies, to make a blustering fool of
myself! What will the young lady say about me? Now I'm sorry that
I've been secretary to all the ministers!"
While the good Linares was in the midst of his soliloquy, Padre Salvi
came in. The Franciscan was even thinner and paler than usual, but his
eyes gleamed with a strange light and his lips wore a peculiar smile.
"Señor Linares, all alone?" was his greeting as he made his way to
the sala, through the half-opened door of which floated the notes
from a piano. Linares tried to smile.
"Where is Don Santiago?" continued the curate.
Capitan Tiago at that moment appeared, kissed the curate's hand, and
relieved him of his hat and cane, smiling all the while like one of
the blessed.
"Come, come!" exclaimed the curate, entering the sala, followed by
Linares and Capitan Tiago, "I have good news for you all. I've just
received letters from Manila which confirm the one Señor Ibarra
brought me yesterday. So, Don Santiago, the objection is removed."
Maria Clara, who was seated at the piano between her two friends,
partly rose, but her strength failed her, and she fell back
again. Linares turned pale and looked at Capitan Tiago, who dropped
his eyes.
"That young man seems to me to be very agreeable," continued the
curate. "At first I misjudged him--he's a little quick-tempered--but
he knows so well how to atone for his faults afterwards that one
can't hold anything against him. If it were not for Padre Damaso--"
Here the curate shot a quick glance at Maria Clara, who was listening
without taking her eyes off the sheet of music, in spite of the sly
pinches of Sinang, who was thus expressing her joy--had she been
alone she would have danced.
"Padre Damaso?" queried Linares.
"Yes, Padre Damaso has said," the curate went on, without taking
his gaze from Maria Clara, "that as--being her sponsor in baptism,
he can't permit--but, after all, I believe that if Señor Ibarra begs
his pardon, which I don't doubt he'll do, everything will be settled."
Maria Clara rose, made some excuse, and retired to her chamber,
accompanied by Victoria.
"But if Padre Damaso doesn't pardon him?" asked Capitan Tiago in a
low voice.
"Then Maria Clara will decide. Padre Damaso is her
father--spiritually. But I think they'll reach an understanding."
At that moment footsteps were heard and Ibarra appeared, followed
by Aunt Isabel. His appearance produced varied impressions. To his
affable greeting Capitan Tiago did not know whether to laugh or to
cry. He acknowledged the presence of Linares with a profound bow. Fray
Salvi arose and extended his hand so cordially that the youth could
not restrain a look of astonishment.
"Don't be surprised," said Fray Salvi, "for I was just now praising
you."
Ibarra thanked him and went up to Sinang, who began with her childish
garrulity, "Where have you been all day? We were all asking, where
can that soul redeemed from purgatory have gone? And we all said the
same thing."
"May I know what you said?"
"No, that's a secret, but I'll tell you soon alone. Now tell me where
you've been, so we can see who guessed right."
"No, that's also a secret, but I'll tell you alone, if these gentlemen
will excuse us."
"Certainly, certainly, by all means!" exclaimed Padre Salvi.
Rejoicing over the prospect of learning a secret, Sinang led Crisostomo
to one end of the sala.
"Tell me, little friend," he asked, "is Maria angry with me?"
"I don't know, but she says that it's better for you to forget her,
then she begins to cry. Capitan Tiago wants her to marry that man. So
does Padre Damaso, but she doesn't say either yes or no. This morning
when we were talking about you and I said, 'Suppose he has gone to
make love to some other girl?' she answered, 'Would that he had!' and
began to cry."
Ibarra became grave. "Tell Maria that I want to talk with her alone."
"Alone?" asked Sinang, wrinkling her eyebrows and staring at him.
"Entirely alone, no, but not with that fellow present."
"It's rather difficult, but don't worry, I'll tell her."
"When shall I have an answer?"
"Tomorrow come to my house early. Maria doesn't want to be left alone
at all, so we stay with her. Victoria sleeps with her one night and
I the other, and tonight it's my turn. But listen, your secret? Are
you going away without telling me?"
"That's right! I was in the town of Los Baños. I'm going to develop
some coconut-groves and I'm thinking of putting up an oil-mill. Your
father will be my partner."
"Nothing more than that? What a secret!" exclaimed Sinang aloud,
in the tone of a cheated usurer. "I thought--"
"Be careful! I don't want you to make it known!"
"Nor do I want to do it," replied Sinang, turning up her nose. "If
it were something more important, I would tell my friends. But to
buy coconuts! Coconuts! Who's interested in coconuts?" And with
extraordinary haste she ran to join her friends.
A few minutes later Ibarra, seeing that the interest of the party
could only languish, took his leave. Capitan Tiago wore a bitter-sweet
look, Linares was silent and watchful, while the curate with assumed
cheerfulness talked of indifferent matters. None of the girls had
reappeared.


CHAPTER LII
The Cards of the Dead and the Shadows

The moon was hidden in a cloudy sky while a cold wind, precursor
of the approaching December, swept the dry leaves and dust about in
the narrow pathway leading to the cemetery. Three shadowy forms were
conversing in low tones under the arch of the gateway.
"Have you spoken to Elias?" asked a voice.
"No, you know how reserved and circumspect he is. But he ought to be
one of us. Don Crisostomo saved his life."
"That's why I joined," said the first voice. "Don Crisostomo had my
wife cured in the house of a doctor in Manila. I'll look after the
convento to settle some old scores with the curate."
"And we'll take care of the barracks to show the civil-guards that
our father had sons."
"How many of us will there be?"
"Five, and five will be enough. Don Crisostomo's servant, though,
says there'll be twenty of us."
"What if you don't succeed?"
"Hist!" exclaimed one of the shadows, and all fell silent.
In the semi-obscurity a shadowy figure was seen to approach,
sneaking along by the fence. From time to time it stopped as if
to look back. Nor was reason for this movement lacking, since some
twenty paces behind it came another figure, larger and apparently
darker than the first, but so lightly did it touch the ground that
it vanished as rapidly as though the earth had swallowed it every
time the first shadow paused and turned.
"They're following me," muttered the first figure. "Can it be the
civil-guards? Did the senior sacristan lie?"
"They said that they would meet here," thought the second shadow. "Some
mischief must be on foot when the two brothers conceal it from me."
At length the first shadow reached the gateway of the cemetery. The
three who were already there stepped forward.
"Is that you?"
"Is that you?"
"We must scatter, for they've followed me. Tomorrow you'll get the arms
and tomorrow night is the time. The cry is, 'Viva Don Crisostomo!' Go!"
The three shadows disappeared behind the stone walls. The later
arrival hid in the hollow of the gateway and waited silently. "Let's
see who's following me," he thought.
The second shadow came up very cautiously and paused as if to look
about him. "I'm late," he muttered, "but perhaps they will return."
A thin fine rain, which threatened to last, began to fall, so it
occurred to him to take refuge under the gateway. Naturally, he ran
against the other.
"Ah! Who are you?" asked the latest arrival in a rough tone.
"Who are you?" returned the other calmly, after which there followed
a moment's pause as each tried to recognize the other's voice and to
make out his features.
"What are you waiting here for?" asked he of the rough voice.
"For the clock to strike eight so that I can play cards with the
dead. I want to win something tonight," answered the other in a
natural tone. "And you, what have you come for?"
"For--for the same purpose."
"_Abá!_ I'm glad of that, I'll not be alone. I've brought cards. At
the first stroke of the bell I'll make the lay, at the second I'll
deal. The cards that move are the cards of the dead and we'll have
to cut for them. Have you brought cards?"
"No."
"Then how--"
"It's simple enough--just as you're going to deal for them, so I
expect them to play for me."
"But what if the dead don't play?"
"What can we do? Gambling hasn't yet been made compulsory among
the dead."
A short silence ensued.
"Are you armed? How are you going to fight with the dead?"
"With my fists," answered the larger of the two.
"Oh, the devil! Now I remember--the dead won't bet when there's more
than one living person, and there are two of us."
"Is that right? Well, I don't want to leave."
"Nor I. I'm short of money," answered the smaller. "But let's do this:
let's play for it, the one who loses to leave."
"All right," agreed the other, rather ungraciously. "Then let's
get inside. Have you any matches?" They went in to seek in the
semi-obscurity for a suitable place and soon found a niche in which
they could sit. The shorter took some cards from his salakot, while
the other struck a match, in the light from which they stared at
each other, but, from the expressions on their faces, apparently
without recognition. Nevertheless, we can recognize in the taller
and deep-voiced one Elias and in the shorter one, from the scar on
his cheek, Lucas.
"Cut!" called Lucas, still staring at the other. He pushed aside some
bones that were in the niche and dealt an ace and a jack.
Elias lighted match after match. "On the jack!" he said, and to
indicate the card placed a vertebra on top of it.
"Play!" called Lucas, as he dealt an ace with the fourth or fifth
card. "You've lost," he added. "Now leave me alone so that I can try
to make a raise."
Elias moved away without a word and was soon swallowed up in the
darkness.
Several minutes later the church-clock struck eight and the bell
announced the hour of the souls, but Lucas invited no one to play nor
did he call on the dead, as the superstition directs; instead, he took
off his hat and muttered a few prayers, crossing and recrossing himself
with the same fervor with which, at that same moment, the leader of the
Brotherhood of the Holy Rosary was going through a similar performance.
Throughout the night a drizzling rain continued to fall. By nine
o'clock the streets were dark and solitary. The coconut-oil lanterns,
which the inhabitants were required to hang out, scarcely illuminated
a small circle around each, seeming to be lighted only to render the
darkness more apparent. Two civil-guards paced back and forth in the
street near the church.
"It's cold!" said one in Tagalog with a Visayan accent. "We haven't
caught any sacristan, so there is no one to repair the alferez's
chicken-coop. They're all scared out by the death of that other
one. This makes me tired."
"Me, too," answered the other. "No one commits robbery, no one raises
a disturbance, but, thank God, they say that Elias is in town. The
alferez says that whoever catches him will be exempt from floggings
for three months."
"Aha! Do you remember his description?" asked the Visayan.
"I should say so! Height: tall, according to the alferez, medium,
according to Padre Damaso; color, brown; eyes, black; nose, ordinary;
beard, none; hair, black."
"Aha! But special marks?"
"Black shirt, black pantaloons, wood-cutter."
"Aha, he won't get away from me! I think I see him now."
"I wouldn't mistake him for any one else, even though he might look
like him."
Thus the two soldiers continued on their round.
By the light of the lanterns we may again see two shadowy figures
moving cautiously along, one behind the other. An energetic "_Quién
vive?_" stops both, and the first answers, "_España!_" in a trembling
voice.
The soldiers seize him and hustle him toward a lantern to examine
him. It is Lucas, but the soldiers seem to be in doubt, questioning
each other with their eyes.
"The alferez didn't say that he had a scar," whispered the
Visayan. "Where you going?"
"To order a mass for tomorrow."
"Haven't you seen Elias?"
"I don't know him, sir," answered Lucas.
"I didn't ask you if you know him, you fool! Neither do we know
him. I'm asking you if you've seen him."
"No, sir."
"Listen, I'll describe him: Height, sometimes tall, sometimes medium;
hair and eyes, black; all the other features, ordinary," recited the
Visayan. "Now do you know him?"
"No, sir," replied Lucas stupidly.
"Then get away from here! Brute! Dolt!" And they gave him a shove.
"Do you know why Elias is tall to the alferez and of medium height
to the curate?" asked the Tagalog thoughtfully.
"No," answered the Visayan.
"Because the alferez was down in the mudhole when he saw him and the
curate was on foot."
"That's right!" exclaimed the Visayan. "You're talented--blow is it
that you're a civil-guard?"
"I wasn't always one; I was a smuggler," answered the Tagalog with
a touch of pride.
But another shadowy figure diverted their attention. They challenged
this one also and took the man to the light.
This time it was the real Elias.
"Where you going?"
"To look for a man, sir, who beat and threatened my brother. He has
a scar on his face and is called Elias."
"Aha!" exclaimed the two guards, gazing at each other in astonishment,
as they started on the run toward the church, where Lucas had
disappeared a few moments before.


CHAPTER LIII
Il Buon Dí Si Conosce Da Mattina [137]

Early the next morning the report spread through the town that many
lights had been seen in the cemetery on the previous night. The leader
of the Venerable Tertiary Order spoke of lighted candles, of their
shape and size, and, although he could not fix the exact number, had
counted more than twenty. Sister Sipa, of the Brotherhood of the Holy
Rosary, could not bear the thought that a member of a rival order
should alone boast of having seen this divine marvel, so she, even
though she did not live near the place, had heard cries and groans,
and even thought she recognized by their voices certain persons with
whom she, in other times,--but out of Christian charity she not only
forgave them but prayed for them and would keep their names secret,
for all of which she was declared on the spot to be a saint. Sister
Rufa was not so keen of hearing, but she could not suffer that Sister
Sipa had heard so much and she nothing, so she related a dream in
which there had appeared before her many souls--not only of the
dead but even of the living--souls in torment who begged for a part
of those indulgences of hers which were so carefully recorded and
treasured. She could furnish names to the families interested and
only asked for a few alms to succor the Pope in his needs. A little
fellow, a herder, who dared to assert that he had seen nothing more
than one light and two men in salakots had difficulty in escaping
with mere slaps and scoldings. Vainly he swore to it; there were his
carabaos with him and could verify his statement. "Do you pretend
to know more than the Warden and the Sisters, _paracmason_, [138]
heretic?" he was asked amid angry looks. The curate went up into the
pulpit and preached about purgatory so fervently that the pesos again
flowed forth from their hiding-places to pay for masses.
But let us leave the suffering souls and listen to the conversation
between Don Filipo and old Tasio in the lonely home of the latter. The
Sage, or Lunatic, was sick, having been for days unable to leave his
bed, prostrated by a malady that was rapidly growing worse.
"Really, I don't know whether to congratulate you or not that your
resignation has been accepted. Formerly, when the gobernadorcillo so
shamelessly disregarded the will of the majority, it was right for
you to tender it, but now that you are engaged in a contest with the
Civil Guard it's not quite proper. In time of war you ought to remain
at your post."
"Yes, but not when the general sells himself," answered Don
Filipo. "You know that on the following morning the gobernadorcillo
liberated the soldiers that I had succeeded in arresting and refused
to take any further action. Without the consent of my superior officer
I could do nothing."
"You alone, nothing; but with the rest, much. You should have
taken advantage of this opportunity to set an example to the other
towns. Above the ridiculous authority of the gobernadorcillo are the
rights of the people. It was the beginning of a good lesson and you
have neglected it."
"But what could I have done against the representative of the
interests? Here you have Señor Ibarra, he has bowed before the beliefs
of the crowd. Do you think that he believes in excommunications?"
"You are not in the same fix. Señor Ibarra is trying to sow the good
seed, and to do so he must bend himself and make what use he can of
the material at hand. Your mission was to stir things up, and for that
purpose initiative and force are required. Besides, the fight should
not be considered as merely against the gobernadorcillo. The principle
ought to be, against him who makes wrong use of his authority,
against him who disturbs the public peace, against him who fails in
his duty. You would not have been alone, for the country is not the
same now that it was twenty years ago."
"Do you think so?" asked Don Filipo.
"Don't you feel it?" rejoined the old man, sitting up in his bed. "Ah,
that is because you haven't seen the past, you haven't studied the
effect of European immigration, of the coming of new books, and
of the movement of our youth to Europe. Examine and compare these
facts. It is true that the Royal and Pontifical University of Santo
Tomas, with its most sapient faculty, still exists and that some
intelligences are yet exercised in formulating distinctions and in
penetrating the subtleties of scholasticism; but where will you now
find the metaphysical youth of our days, with their archaic education,
who tortured their brains and died in full pursuit of sophistries
in some corner of the provinces, without ever having succeeded in
understanding the attributes of _being_, or solving the problem of
_essence_ and _existence_, those lofty concepts that made us forget
what was essential,--our own existence and our own individuality? Look
at the youth of today! Full of enthusiasm at the view of a wider
horizon, they study history, mathematics, geography, literature,
physical sciences, languages--all subjects that in our times we heard
mentioned with horror, as though they were heresies. The greatest
free-thinker of my day declared them inferior to the classifications of
Aristotle and the laws of the syllogism. Man has at last comprehended
that he is man; he has given up analyzing his God and searching into
the imperceptible, into what he has not seen; he has given up framing
laws for the phantasms of his brain; he comprehends that his heritage
is the vast world, dominion over which is within his reach; weary of
his useless and presumptuous toil, he lowers his head and examines what
surrounds him. See how poets are now springing up among us! The Muses
of Nature are gradually opening up their treasures to us and begin
to smile in encouragement on our efforts; the experimental sciences
have already borne their first-fruits; time only is lacking for their
development. The lawyers of today are being trained in the new forms of
the philosophy of law, some of them begin to shine in the midst of the
shadows which surround our courts of justice, indicating a change in
the course of affairs. Hear how the youth talk, visit the centers of
learning! Other names resound within the walls of the schools, there
where we heard only those of St. Thomas, Suarez, Amat, Sanchez, [139]
and others who were the idols of our times. In vain do the friars cry
out from the pulpits against our demoralization, as the fish-venders
cry out against the cupidity of their customers, disregarding the
fact that their wares are stale and unserviceable! In vain do the
conventos extend their ramifications to check the new current. The