by José Rizal
"No! Stop singing!" she cried in perfect Tagal. "Stop! These versesbore me!"
Sisa stopped. The orderly thought: "Ah, she knows the Tagal!" And heregarded his mistress with admiration.
She saw she had betrayed herself, became ashamed, and shame in herunfeminine nature meant rage. She showed the door to the imprudentorderly, and shut it behind him with a blow. Then she took severalturns around the room, wringing the whip in her nervous hands. At last,planting herself before Sisa, she said to her in Spanish: "Dance!"
Sisa did not move.
"Dance! Dance!" she repeated in a threatening voice. The poor thinglooked at her with vacant eyes. The vixen took hold of one of herarms and then the other, raising them and swaying them about. It wasof no use. Sisa did not understand.
In vain Dona Consolacion began to leap about, making signs for Sisa toimitate her. In the distance a band was playing a slow and majesticmarch; but the creature leaped furiously to another measure, beatingwithin herself. Sisa looked on, motionless. A faint curiosity rosein her eyes, a feeble smile moved her pale lips; the alfereza's dancepleased her.
The dancer stopped, as if ashamed, and raised the terrible whip,well known to thieves and soldiers.
"Now," said she, "it's your turn! Dance!" And she began to give lighttaps to the bare feet of bewildered Sisa, whose face contracted withpain; the poor thing tried to ward off the blows with her hands.
"Ah! You're beginning, are you?" cried Dona Consolacion, with savagejoy, and from lento, she passed to allegro vivace.
Sisa cried out and drew up first one foot and then the other.
"Will you dance, accursed Indian!" and the whip whistled.
Sisa let herself fall to the floor, trying to cover her feet,and looking at her tormenter with haggard eyes. Two lashes on theshoulders forced her to rise with screams.
Her thin chemise was torn, the skin broken and the blood flowing.
This excited Dona Consolacion still more.
"Dance! Dance!" she howled, and seizing Sisa with one hand, whileshe beat her with the other, she commenced to leap about again.
At length Sisa understood, and followed, moving her arms withoutrhythm or measure. A smile of satisfaction came to the lips of thehorrible woman--the smile of a female Mephistopheles who has foundan apt pupil: hate, scorn, mockery, and cruelty were in it; a burstof demoniacal laughter could not have said more.
Absorbed by her delight in this spectacle, the alfereza did not knowthat her husband had arrived until the door was violently thrown openwith a kick.
The alferez was pale and morose. When he saw what was going on, hedarted a terrible glance at his wife, then quietly put his hand onthe shoulder of the strange dancer, and stopped her motion. Sisa,breathing hard, sat down on the floor. He called the orderly.
"Take this woman away," he said; "see that she is properly cared for,and has a good dinner and a good bed. To-morrow she is to be takento Senor Ibarra's."
Then he carefully closed the door after them, pushed the bolt, andapproached his wife.
XXXIV.
RIGHT AND MIGHT.
It was ten o'clock in the evening. The first rockets were slowlygoing up in the dark sky, where bright-colored balloons shone like newstars. On the ridge-poles of the houses men were seen armed with bamboopoles, with pails of water at hand. Their dark silhouettes against theclear gray of the night seemed phantoms come to share in the gayety ofmen. They were there to look out for balloons that might fall burning.
Crowds of people were going toward the plaza to see the last playat the theatre. Bengal fires burned here and there, grouping themerry-makers fantastically.
The grand estrade was magnificently illuminated. Thousands of lightswere fixed round the pillars, hung from the roof and clustered nearthe ground.
In front of the stage the orchestra was tuning its instruments. Thedignitaries of the pueblo, the Spaniards, and wealthy strangersoccupied seats in rows. The people filled the rest of the place;some had brought benches, rather to mount them than to sit on them,and others noisily protested against this.
Comings and goings, cries, exclamations, bursts of laughter, jokes,a whistle, swelled the tumult. Here the leg of a bench gave way andprecipitated those on it, to the delight of the spectators; therewas a dispute for place; and a little beyond a fracas of glassesand bottles. It was Andeng, carrying a great tray of drinks, andunfortunately she had encountered her fiance, who was disposed toprofit by the occasion.
The lieutenant, Don Filipo, was in charge of the spectacle, forthe gobernadorcillo was playing monte, of which he was a passionatedevotee. Don Filipo was talking with old Tasio, who was on the pointof leaving.
"Aren't you going to see the play?"
"No, thank you! My own mind suffices for rambling and dreaming,"replied the philosopher, laughing. "But I have a questionto propose. Have you ever observed the strange nature of ourpeople? Pacific, they love warlike spectacles; democratic, they adoreemperors, kings, and princes; irreligious, they ruin themselves inthe pomps of the ritual; the nature of our women is gentle, but theyhave deliriums of delight when a princess brandishes a lance. Do youknow the cause of all this? Well----"
The arrival of Maria Clara and her friends cut short theconversation. Don Filipo accompanied them to their places. Then camethe curate, with his usual retinue.
The evening began with Chananay and Marianito in "Crispino and theGossip." The scene fixed the attention of every one. The act wasending when Ibarra entered. His coming excited a murmur, and eyesturned from him to the curate. But Crisostomo observed nothing. Hegracefully saluted Maria and her friends and sat down. The only onewho spoke to him was Sinang.
"Have you been watching the fireworks?" she asked.
"No, little friend, I had to accompany the governor-general."
"That was too bad!"
Brother Salvi had risen, gone to Don Filipo, and appeared to be havingwith him a serious discussion. He spoke with heat, the lieutenantcalmly and quietly.
"I am sorry not to be able to satisfy your reverence, but Senor Ibarrais one of the chief contributors to the fete, and has a perfect rightto be here so long as he creates no disturbance."
"But is it not creating a disturbance to scandalize all goodChristians?"
"Father," replied Don Filipo, "my slight authority does not permit meto interfere in religious matters. Let those who fear Senor Ibarra'scontact avoid him: he forces himself upon no one; the senor alcaldeand the captain-general have been in his company all the afternoon;it hardly becomes me to give them a lesson."
"If you do not put him out of the place, we shall go."
"I should be very sorry, but I have no authority to remove him."
The curate repented of his threat, but there was now no remedy. Hemotioned to his companions, who rose reluctantly, and all went out,not without hostile glances toward Ibarra.
The whisperings and murmurs began again. Several people came up toCrisostomo and said:
"We are with you; pay no attention to them!"
"To whom?" he asked in astonishment.
"Those who have gone out because you are here; they say you areexcommunicated."
Ibarra, surprised, not knowing what to say, looked about him. Maria'sface was hidden.
"Is it possible? Are we yet in the middle ages?" he began. But hechecked himself and said to the girls:
"I must excuse myself; I will be back to go home with you."
"Oh, stay!" said Sinang. "Yeyeng is going to dance!"
"I cannot, little friend."
While Yeyeng was coming forward, two soldiers of the guard approachedDon Filipo and demanded that the representation be stopped.
"And why?" he asked in surprise.
"Because the alferez and his wife have been fighting; they wantto sleep."
"Tell the alferez we have the permission of the alcalde of theprovince, and nobody in the pueblo can overrule that, not even thegobernadorcillo."
"But we have our orders to stop the performance."
The Filipino is passionately fond of the theatre; he listens insilence, never hisses, and applauds with measure. Does not thespectacle please him? He chews his buyo and goes out quietly, notto trouble those who may like it. He expects in his plays a combatevery fifteen seconds, and all the rest of the time repartee betweencomic personages, or terrifying metamorphoses. The comedy chosen forthis fete was "Prince Villardo, or the Nails Drawn from the Cellarof Infamy," comedy with sorcery and fireworks.
Prince Villardo presented himself, defying the Moors, who held hisfather prisoner. He threatened to cut off all their heads at a singlestroke and send them into the moon.
Fortunately for the Moors, as they were preparing for the combat, atumult arose. The music stopped, and the musicians assailed the theatrewith their instruments, which went flying in all directions. Thevaliant Villardo, unprepared for so many foes, threw down his sword andbuckler and took to flight, and the Moors, seeing the hasty leave ofso terrible a Christian, made bold to follow him. Cries, exclamations,and imprecations rose on all sides, people ran against one another,lights went out, children screamed, and benches were overturned ina hurly-burly. Some cried fire, some cried "The tulisanes!"
What had happened? The two guards had driven off the musicians,and the lieutenant and some of the cuadrilleros were vainly tryingto check their flight.
"Take those two men to the tribunal!" cried Don Filipo. "Don't letthem escape!"
When the crowd had recovered from its fright and taken account ofwhat had happened, indignation broke forth.
"That's why they are for!" cried a woman, brandishing her arms; "totrouble the pueblo! They are the real tulisanes! Fire the barracks!"
Stones rained on the group of cuadrilleros leading off the guards,and the cry to fire the barracks was repeated. Chananay in her costumeof Leonora in "Il Trovatore" was talking with Ratia, in schoolmaster'sdress; Yeyeng, wrapped in a shawl, was attended by Prince Villardo,while the Moors tried to console the mortified musicians; but alreadythe crowd had determined upon action, and Don Filipo was doing hisbest to hold them in check.
"Do nothing rash!" he cried. "To-morrow we will demand satisfaction;we shall have justice; I promise you justice!"
"No," replied some; "that's what they did at Calamba: they promisedjustice, and the alcalde didn't do a thing! We will take justice forourselves! To the barracks!"
Don Filipo, looking about for some one to aid him, saw Ibarra.
"For heaven's sake, Senor Ibarra, keep the people here while I gofor the cuadrilleros!"
"What can I do?" demanded the perplexed young fellow; but Don Filipowas already in the distance.
Ibarra, in his turn, looked about for aid, and saw Elias. He ranto him, took him by the arm, and, speaking in Spanish, begged himto do what he could for order. The helmsman disappeared in thecrowd. Animated discussions were heard, and rapid questions; then,little by little, the mass began to dissolve and to wear a less hostileattitude. It was time; the soldiers arrived with bayonets fixed.
As Ibarra was about to enter his house that night a little man inmourning, having a great scar on his left cheek, placed himself infront of him and bowed humbly.
"What can I do for you?" asked Crisostomo.
"Senor, my name is Jose; I am the brother of the man killed thismorning."
"Ah," said Ibarra, "I assure you I am not insensible to your loss. Whatdo you wish of me?"
"Senor, I wish to know how much you are going to pay my brother'sfamily."
"Pay!" repeated Crisostomo, not without annoyance. "We will talk ofthis again; come to me to-morrow."
"But tell me simply what you will give," insisted Jose.
"I tell you we will talk of it another day, not now," said Ibarra,more impatiently.
"Ah! You think because we are poor----"
Ibarra interrupted him.
"Don't try my patience too far," he said, moving on. Jose lookedafter him with a smile full of hatred.
"It is easy to see he is a grandson of the man who exposed my fatherto the sun," he murmured between his teeth. "The same blood!" Thenin a changed tone he added: "But if you pay well--friends!"
XXXV.
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
The fete was over, and the inhabitants of the pueblo now perceived,as they did every year, that their purses were empty, that in thesweat of their faces they had earned scant pleasure, and paid dearfor noise and headaches. But what of that? The next year they wouldbegin again; the next century it would still be the same, for it hadbeen so up to this time, and there is nothing which can make peoplerenounce a custom.
The house of Captain Tiago is sad. All the windows are closed; onescarcely dares make a sound; and nowhere but in the kitchen do theyspeak aloud. Maria Clara, the soul of the house, is sick in bed. Thestate of her health could be read on all faces, as our actions betraythe griefs of our hearts.
"What do you think, Isabel, ought I to make a gift to the cross atTunasan, or that at Matahong?" asks the unhappy father. "The crossat Tunasan grows, but that at Matahong perspires. Which do you callthe more miraculous?"
Aunt Isabel reflected, nodded her head, and whispered:
"To grow is more miraculous; we all perspire, but we don't all grow."
"That's so, yes, Isabel; but, after all, for wood to perspire--well,then, the best thing is to make offerings to both."
A carriage stopping before the house cut short theconversation. Captain Tiago, followed by Aunt Isabel, ran down thesteps to receive the coming guests. They were the doctor, Don Tiburciode Espadana, his wife, the Doctora Dona Victorina de Los Reyes de deEspadana, and a young Spaniard of attractive face and fine appearance.
The doctora wore a silk dress bordered with flowers, and a hat with alarge parrot perched among bows of red and blue ribbons. The dust ofthe journey mingling with the rice powder on her cheeks, exaggeratedher wrinkles; as when we saw her at Manila, she had given her arm toher lame husband.
"I have the pleasure of presenting to you our cousin, Don AlfonsoLinares de Espadana," said Dona Victorina, indicating the young man;"the adopted son of a relative of Father Damaso's, and privatesecretary of all the ministers----"
The young man bowed low; Captain Tiago barely escaped kissing his hand.
While the countless trunks, valises, and bags are being cared for andCaptain Tiago is conducting his guests to their apartments, let usmake a nearer acquaintance with these people whom we have not seensince the opening chapters.
Dona Victorina is a woman of forty-five summers, which, according toher arithmetic, are equivalent to thirty-two springs. In her youth shehad been very pretty, but, enraptured in her own contemplation, shehad looked with the utmost disdain on her numerous Filipino adorers,even scorning the vows of love once murmured in her ears or chantedunder her balcony by Captain Tiago. Her aspirations bore her towardanother race.
Her first youth, then her second, then her third, having passed intending nets to catch in the ocean of the world the object of herdreams, Dona Victorina must in the end content herself with what fatewilled her. It was a poor man torn from his native Estramadure, who,after wandering six or seven years about the world, a modern Ulysses,found at length, in the island of Luzon, hospitality, money, and afaded Calypso.
Don Tiburcio was a modest man, without force, who would not willinglyhave injured a fly. He started for the Philippines as under-clerkof customs, but after breaking his leg was forced to give up hisposition. For a while he lived at the expense of some compatriots,but he found their bread bitter. As he had neither profession normoney, his advisers counselled him to go into the provinces and offerhimself as a physician. At first he refused, but, necessity becomingpressing, his friends convinced him of the vanity of his scruples. Hestarted out, kept by his conscience from asking more than small fees,and was on the road to prosperity when a jealous doctor called him tothe atten
tion of the College of Physicians at Manila. Nothing wouldhave come of it, but the affair reached the ears of the people; lossof confidence followed, and then loss of patrons. Misery again staredhim in the face when he heard of the affliction of Dona Victorina. DonTiburcio saw here a patch of blue sky, and asked to be presented.
They met, and after a half-hour of conversation, reached anunderstanding. Without doubt she would have preferred a Spaniard lesshalting, less bald, without impediment of speech, and with more teeth;but such a Spaniard had never asked her hand, and at thirty-two whatwoman is not prudent?
For his part, Don Tiburcio resigned himself when he saw the spectreof famine raise its head. Not that he had ever had great ambitionsor great pretensions; but his heart, virgin till now, had pictured adifferent divinity. He was, however, somewhat of a philosopher. Hesaid to himself: "All that was a dream! Is the reality powderedand wrinkled, homely and ridiculous? Well, I am bald and lame andtoothless."
They were married then, and Dona Victorina was enchanted with herhusband. She had him fitted out with false teeth, attired by thebest tailors of the city, and ordered carriages and horses for theprofessional visits she intended him again to make.
While thus transforming her husband, she did not forget herself. Shediscarded the silk skirt and jacket of pina for European costume,loaded her head with false hair, and her person with such extravagancesgenerally as to disturb the peace of a whole idle and tranquilneighborhood.
The glamour around the husband first began to dim when he tried toapproach the subject of the rice powder by remarking that nothing is sougly as the false or so admirable as the natural. Dona Victorina lookedunpleasantly at his teeth, and he was silent. Indeed, at the end of avery short time the doctora had arrived at the complete subjugation ofher husband, who no longer offered any more resistance than a littlelap-dog. If he did anything to annoy her, she forbade his going out,and in her moments of greatest rage she tore out his false teeth,and left him, sometimes for days, horribly disfigured.
