by José Rizal
Maria Clara was the object of interest to all the women, and thesubject of unveiled comments. She had received these ceremoniously,without losing her air of sadness.
"Bah! the proud little thing!" said one.
"Rather pretty," said another, "but he might have chosen some onewith a more intelligent face."
"But the money, my dear! The good fellow is selling himself."
In another group some one was saying:
"To marry when one's first fiance is going to be hung!"
"That is what is called prudent; having a substitute at hand."
"Then, when one becomes a widow----"
Possibly some of these remarks reached the ears of Maria Clara. Shegrew paler, her hand trembled, her lips seemed to move.
In the circles of men the talk was loud, and naturally the recentevents were the subject of conversation. Everybody talked, evenDon Tiburcio.
"I hear that your reverence is about to leave the pueblo," said thenew lieutenant, whom his new star had made more amiable.
"I have no more to do there; I am to be placed permanently atManila. And you?" asked Father Salvi.
"I also leave the pueblo," said he, throwing back his shoulders;"I am going with a flying column to rid the province of filibusters."
Father Salvi surveyed his old enemy from top to toe, and turned awaywith a disdainful smile.
"Is it known certainly what is to be done with the chieffilibuster?" asked a clerk.
"You are speaking of Don Crisostomo Ibarra," replied another. "It isvery probable that he will be hung, like those of 1872, and it willbe very just."
"He is to be exiled," said the old lieutenant dryly.
"Exile! Nothing but exile?" cried numerous voices at once. "Then itmust be for life!"
"If the young man had been more prudent," went on Lieutenant Guevara,speaking so that all might hear, "if he had confided less in certainpersons to whom he wrote, if our attorney-generals did not interprettoo subtly what they read, it is certain he would have been released."
This declaration of the old lieutenant's, and the tone of his voice,produced a great surprise among his auditors. No one knew what tosay. Father Salvi looked away, perhaps to avoid the dark look thelieutenant gave him. Maria Clara dropped some flowers she had in herhand, and became a statue. Father Sibyla, who knew when to be silent,seemed the only one who knew how to question.
"You speak of letters, Senor Guevara."
"I speak of what I am told by Don Crisostomo's advocate, who isgreatly interested in his case, and defended him with zeal. Outsideof a few ambiguous lines in a letter addressed to a woman before heleft for Europe, in which the procurator found a project against theGovernment, and which the young man acknowledged as his, there wasno evidence against him."
"And the declaration made by the tulisan before he died?"
"The defence destroyed that testimony. According to the witnesshimself, none of them had any communication with Ibarra, exceptone named Jose, who was his enemy, as was proven, and who afterwardcommitted suicide, probably from remorse. It was shown that the papersfound on his body were forgeries, for the writing was like Ibarra'sseven years ago, but not like his hand of to-day. For this it wassupposed that the accusing letter served as a model."
"You tell us," said a Franciscan, "that Ibarra addressed this letterto a woman. How did it come into the hands of the attorney-general?"
The lieutenant did not reply. He looked a moment at Father Salvi,and moved off, twisting the point of his gray beard. The otherscontinued to discuss the matter.
"Even women seem to have hated him," said one.
"He burned his house, thinking to save himself, but he counted withouthis hostess!" said another, laughing.
Meanwhile the old soldier approached Maria Clara. She had heard thewhole conversation, sitting motionless, the flowers lying at her feet.
"You are a prudent young woman," he said in a low voice; "by givingover the letter, you assured yourself a peaceful future." And he movedon, leaving Maria with blank eyes and a face rigid. Fortunately AuntIsabel passed. Maria had strength to take her by the dress.
"What is the matter?" cried the old lady, terrified at the face ofher niece. "You are ill, my child. You are ready to faint. What is it?"
"My heart--it's the crowd--so much light--I must rest. Tell my fatherI've gone to rest," and steadying herself by her aunt's arm, she wentto her room.
"You are cold! Do you want some tea?" asked Aunt Isabel at the door.
Maria shook her head. "Go back, dear aunt, I only need to rest,"she said. She locked the door of her little room, and at the end ofher strength, threw herself down before a statue, sobbing:
"Mother, mother, my mother!"
The moonlight came in through the window, and through the door leadingto the balcony. The joyous music of the dance, peals of laughterand the hum of conversation, made their way to the chamber. Manytimes they knocked at her door--her father, her aunt, Dona Victorina,even Linares. Maria did not move or speak; now and then a hoarse sobescaped her.
Hours passed. After the feast had come the ball. Maria's candle hadburned out, and she lay in the moonlight at the foot of the statue. Shehad not moved. Little by little the house became quiet. Aunt Isabelcame to knock once again at the door.
"She must have gone to bed," the old lady called back to herbrother. "At her age one sleeps like the dead."
When all was still again, Maria rose slowly, and looked out on theterrace with its vines bathed in the white moonlight.
"A peaceful future!--Sleep like the dead!" she said aloud; and shewent out.
The city was mute; only now and then a carriage could be heardcrossing the wooden bridge. The girl raised her eyes toward the sky;then slowly she took off her rings, the pendants in her ears, thecomb and jewelled pins in her hair, and put them on the balustradeof the terrace; then she looked toward the river.
A little bark, loaded with zacate, drew up to the landing-placebelow the terrace. One of the two men in it climbed the stone steps,sprang over the wall, and in a moment was mounting the stairway ofthe terrace. At sight of Maria, he stopped, then approached slowly.
Maria drew back.
"Crisostomo!" she said, speaking low. She was terrified.
"Yes, I am Crisostomo," replied the young man gravely. "An enemy, aman who has reason to hate me, Elias, has rescued me from the prisonwhere my friends put me."
A sad silence followed his words. Maria Clara bent her head. Ibarrawent on:
"By the dead body of my mother, I pledged myself, whatever my future,to try to make you happy. I have risked all that remains to me, tocome and fulfil that promise. Chance lets me speak to you, Maria;we shall never see each other again. You are young now; some day yourconscience may upbraid you. Before I go away forever, I have come tosay that I forgive you. Be happy--farewell!" And he began to move away;she held him back.
"Crisostomo!" she said, "God has sent you to save me fromdespair. Listen and judge me!"
Ibarra tried gently to release himself.
"I did not come to call you to account; I came to bring you peace."
"I want none of the peace you bring me. I shall find peace formyself. You scorn me and your scorn will make even death bitter."
He saw despair in her poor, young face, and asked what she wished.
"I wish you to believe that I have always loved you."
He smiled bitterly.
"Ah! you doubt me! you doubt your childhood's friend, who has neverhidden a single thought from you! When you know my history, the sadstory that was told me in my illness, you will pity me; you will nolonger wear that smile. Why did they not let me die in the hands ofmy ignorant doctor! You and I should both have been happier!"
She stopped a moment, then went on:
"You force me to this, by your doubts; may my mother forgive me! Inone of the most painful of my nights of suffering, a man revealedto me the name of my real father. If he had not been my father,this man said, he might have pardoned the
injury you had done him."
Crisostomo looked at Maria in amazement.
"What was I to do?" she went on. "Ought I to sacrifice to my lovethe memory of my mother, the honor of him who was supposed to be myfather, and the good name of him who is? And could I have done thiswithout bringing dishonor upon you too?"
"But the proof--have you had proof? There must be proof!" saidCrisostomo, staggered.
Maria drew from her breast two papers.
"Here are two letters of my mother's," she said, "written in herremorse. Take them! Read them! My father left them in the housewhere he lived so many years. This man found them and kept them, andonly gave them up to me in exchange for your letter, as assurance,he said, that I would not marry you without my father's consent. Isacrificed my love! Who would not for a mother dead and two fathersliving? Could I foresee what use they would make of your letter? CouldI know I was sacrificing you too?"
Ibarra was speechless. Maria went on:
"What remained for me to do? Could I tell you who my father was? CouldI bid you ask his pardon, when he had so made your father suffer? CouldI say to my father, who perhaps would have pardoned you--could I say Iwas his daughter? Nothing remained but to suffer, to guard my secret,and die suffering! Now, my friend, now that you know the sad storyof your poor Maria, have you still for her that disdainful smile?"
"Maria, you are a saint!"
"I am blessed, because you believe in me----"
"And yet," said Crisostomo, remembering, "I heard you were tomarry----"
"Yes," sobbed the poor child, "my father demands this sacrifice; hehas loved me, nourished me, and it did not belong to him to do it. Ishall pay him my debt of gratitude by assuring him peace through thisnew connection, but----"
"But?"
"I shall not forget my vows to you."
"What is your thought?" asked Ibarra, trying to read in her clear eyes.
"The future is obscure. I do not know what I shall do; but I knowthis, that I can love but once, and that I shall not belong to oneI do not love. And you? What will you do?"
"I am no longer anything but a fugitive--I shall fly, and my flightwill soon be overtaken, Maria----"
Maria took his head in her hands, kissed his lips again and again,then pushed him away with all her strength.
"Fly, fly!" she said. "Adieu!"
Ibarra looked at her with shining eyes, but she made a sign, and hewent, reeling for an instant like a drunken man. He leaped the wallagain, and was back in the little bark. Maria Clara, leaning on thebalustrade, watched till it disappeared in the distance.
LIII.
THE CHASE ON THE LAKE.
"Listen, senor, to the plan I have made," said Elias, as he pulledtoward San Gabriel. "I will hide you, for the present, at the houseof a friend of mine at Mandaluyong. I will bring you there your gold,that I hid in the tomb of your great-grandfather. You will leavethe country----"
"To live among strangers?" interrupted Ibarra.
"To live in peace. You have friends in Spain; you may get amnesty."
Crisostomo did not reply; he reflected in silence.
They arrived at the Pasig, and the little bark began to go upstream. On the bridge was a horseman, hastening his course, and awhistle long and shrill was heard.
"Elias," said Ibarra at length, "your misfortunes are due to myfamily, and you have twice saved my life. I owe you both gratitudeand restitution of property. You advise me to leave the country;well, come with me. We will live as brothers."
Elias shook his head.
"It is true that I can never be happy in my country, but I can live anddie there, perhaps die for my country. That is always something. Butyou can do nothing for her, here and now. Perhaps some day----"
"Unless I, too, should become a tulisan," mused Ibarra.
"Senor, a month ago we sat in this same boat, under the light of thissame moon. You could not have said such a thing then."
"No, Elias. Man seems to be an animal who varies with circumstances. Iwas blind then, unreasonable, I know not what. Now the bandage hasbeen torn from my eyes; the wretchedness and solitude of my prison hastaught me better. I see the cancer that is eating into our society;perhaps, after all, it must be torn out by violence."
They came in sight of the governor-general's palace, and thought theysaw unusual movement among the guards.
"Your escape must have been discovered," said Elias. "Lie down, senor,so I can cover you with the zacate, for the sentinel at the magazinemay stop us."
As Elias had anticipated, the sentinel challenged him, and asked himwhere he came from.
"From Manila, with zacate for the iodores and curates," said he,imitating the accent of the people of Pandakan.
A sergeant came out.
"Sulung," said he to Elias, "I warn you not to take any one into yourboat. A prisoner has just escaped. If you capture him and bring himto me, I will give you a fine reward."
"Good, senor; what is his description?"
"He wears a long coat, and speaks Spanish. Look out for him!"
The bark moved off. Elias turned and saw the sentinel still standingby the bank.
"We shall lose a few minutes," he said; "we shall have to go intothe rio Beata, to make him think I'm from Pena Francia. You shallsee the rio of which Francisco Baltazar sang."
The pueblo was asleep in the moonlight. Crisostomo sat up to admirethe death-like peace of nature. The rio was narrow, and its banks wereplains strewn with zacate. Elias discharged his cargo, and from thegrass where they were hidden, drew some of those sacks of palm leavesthat are called bayones. Then they pushed off again, and soon wereback on the Pasig. From time to time they talked of indifferent things.
"Santa Ana!" said Ibarra, speaking low; "do you know thatbuilding?" They were passing the country house of the Jesuits.
"I've spent many happy days there," said Elias. "When I was a child,we came here every month. Then I was like other people; had a family,a fortune; dreamed, thought I saw a future."
They were silent until they came to Malapad-na-bato. Those who havesometimes cut a wake in the Pasig, on one of these magnificent nightsof the Philippines, when from the limpid azure the moon pours out apoetic melancholy, when shadows hide the miseries of men and silenceputs out their sordid words--those who have done this will know someof the thoughts of these two young men.
At Malapad-na-bato, the rifleman was sleepy, and seeing no hope ofplunder in the little bark, according to the tradition of his corpsand the habit of this post, he let it pass. The guard at Pasig wasno more disquieting.
The moonlight was growing pale, and dawn was beginning to tint the eastwith roses, when they arrived at the lake, smooth and placid as a greatmirror. At a distance they saw a gray mass, advancing little by little.
"It's the falua," said Elias under his breath. "Lie down, senor,and I will cover you with these bags."
The outlines of the government boat grew more and more distinct.
"She's getting between us and the shore," said Elias, uneasily; andvery gradually he changed the direction of his bark. To his terrorhe saw the falua make the same change, and heard a voice hailinghim. He stopped and thought. The shore was yet some distance away;they would soon be within range of the ship's guns. He thought he wouldgo back to Pasig, his boat could escape the other in that direction;but fate was against him. Another boat was coming from Pasig, and init glittered the helmets and bayonets of the Civil Guards.
"We are caught!" he said, and the color left his face. He looked athis sturdy arms, and took the only resolution possible; he began torow with all his might toward the island of Talim. The sun was comingup. The bark shot rapidly over the water; on the falua, which changedits tack, Elias saw men signalling.
"Do you know how to manage a bark?" he demanded of Ibarra.
"Yes. Why?"
"Because we are lost unless I take to the water to throw them off thetrack. They will pursue me. I swim and dive well. That will turn themaway from you, and you must try to save yo
urself."
"No, stay, and let us sell our lives dear!"
"It is useless; we have no arms; they would shoot us down like birds."
As he spoke, they heard a hiss in the water, followed by a report.
"You see!" said Elias, laying down his oar. "We will meet, Christmasnight, at the tomb of your grandfather. Save yourself! God has drawnme out of greater perils than this!"
He took off his shirt; a ball picked it out of his hands, and tworeports followed. Without showing alarm, he grasped the hand Ibarrastretched up from the bottom of the boat, then stood upright andleaped into the water, pushing off the little craft with his foot.
Outcries were heard from the falua. Promptly, and at some distance,appeared the head of the young man, returning to the surface tobreathe, then disappearing immediately.
"There, there he is," cried several voices, and balls whistled.
The falua and the bark from Pasig set out in pursuit of the swimmer. Aslight wake showed his direction, more and more removed from Ibarra'slittle bark, which drifted as if abandoned. Every time Elias raisedhis head to breathe, the guards and the men of the falua fired on him.
