Noli me tángere. English

by José Rizal

  CHAPTER XXI

  The Story of a Mother

  Andaba incierto--volaba errante, Un solo instante--sin descansar. [70]

  ALAEJOS.

  Sisa ran in the direction of her home with her thoughts in thatconfused whirl which is produced in our being when, in the midst ofmisfortunes, protection and hope alike are gone. It is then thateverything seems to grow dark around us, and, if we do see somefaint light shining from afar, we run toward it, we follow it,even though an abyss yawns in our path. The mother wanted to saveher sons, and mothers do not ask about means when their childrenare concerned. Precipitately she ran, pursued by fear and darkforebodings. Had they already arrested her son Basilio? Whither hadher boy Crispin fled?

  As she approached her little hut she made out above the garden fencethe caps of two soldiers. It would be impossible to tell what her heartfelt: she forgot everything. She was not ignorant of the boldness ofthose men, who did not lower their gaze before even the richest peopleof the town. What would they do now to her and to her sons, accusedof theft! The civil-guards are not men, they are civil-guards; theydo not listen to supplications and they are accustomed to see tears.

  Sisa instinctively raised her eyes toward the sky, that sky whichsmiled with brilliance indescribable, and in whose transparentblue floated some little fleecy clouds. She stopped to control thetrembling that had seized her whole body. The soldiers were leavingthe house and were alone, as they had arrested nothing more than thehen which Sisa had been fattening. She breathed more freely and tookheart again. "How good they are and what kind hearts they have!" shemurmured, almost weeping with joy. Had the soldiers burned her housebut left her sons at liberty she would have heaped blessings uponthem! She again looked gratefully toward the sky through which aflock of herons, those light clouds in the skies of the Philippines,were cutting their path, and with restored confidence she continued onher way. As she approached those fearful men she threw her glances inevery direction as if unconcerned and pretended not to see her hen,which was cackling for help. Scarcely had she passed them when shewanted to run, but prudence restrained her steps.

  She had not gone far when she heard herself called by an imperiousvoice. Shuddering, she pretended not to hear, and continued on herway. They called her again, this time with a yell and an insultingepithet. She turned toward them, pale and trembling in spite ofherself. One of them beckoned to her. Mechanically Sisa approachedthem, her tongue paralyzed with fear and her throat parched.

  "Tell us the truth or we'll tie you to that tree and shoot you,"said one of them in a threatening tone.

  The woman stared at the tree.

  "You're the mother of the thieves, aren't you?" asked the other.

  "Mother of the thieves!" repeated Sisa mechanically.

  "Where's the money your sons brought you last night?"

  "Ah! The money--"

  "Don't deny it or it'll be the worse for you," added the other. "We'vecome to arrest your sons, and the older has escaped from us. Wherehave you hidden the younger?"

  Upon hearing this Sisa breathed more freely and answered, "Sir, ithas been many days since I've seen Crispin. I expected to see himthis morning at the convento, but there they only told me--"

  The two soldiers exchanged significant glances. "All right!" exclaimedone of them. "Give us the money and we'll leave you alone."

  "Sir," begged the unfortunate woman, "my sons wouldn't stealeven though they were starving, for we are used to that kind ofsuffering. Basilio didn't bring me a single cuarto. Search the wholehouse and if you find even a real, do with us what you will. Not allof us poor folks are thieves!"

  "Well then," ordered the soldier slowly, as he fixed his gaze onSisa's eyes, "come with us. Your sons will show up and try to getrid of the money they stole. Come on!"

  "I--go with you?" murmured the woman, as she stepped backward andgazed fearfully at their uniforms. "And why not?"

  "Oh, have pity on me!" she begged, almost on her knees. "I'm verypoor, so I've neither gold nor jewels to offer you. The only thingI had you've already taken, and that is the hen which I was thinkingof selling. Take everything that you find in the house, but leave mehere in peace, leave me here to die!"

  "Go ahead! You're got to go, and if you don't move along willingly,we'll tie you."

  Sisa broke out into bitter weeping, but those men were inflexible. "Atleast, let me go ahead of you some distance," she begged, when shefelt them take hold of her brutally and push her along.

  The soldiers seemed to be somewhat affected and, after whisperingapart, one of them said: "All right, since from here until we get intothe town, you might be able to escape, you'll walk between us. Oncethere you may walk ahead twenty paces, but take care that you don'tdelay and that you don't go into any shop, and don't stop. Go ahead,quickly!"

  Vain were her supplications and arguments, useless her promises. Thesoldiers said that they had already compromised themselves by havingconceded too much. Upon finding herself between them she felt as ifshe would die of shame. No one indeed was coming along the road, buthow about the air and the light of day? True shame encounters eyeseverywhere. She covered her face with her panuelo and walked alongblindly, weeping in silence at her disgrace. She had felt misery andknew what it was to be abandoned by every one, even her own husband,but until now she had considered herself honored and respected: upto this time she had looked with compassion on those boldly dressedwomen whom the town knew as the concubines of the soldiers. Now itseemed to her that she had fallen even a step lower than they in thesocial scale.

  The sound of hoofs was heard, proceeding from a small train of menand women mounted on poor nags, each between two baskets hung overthe back of his mount; it was a party carrying fish to the interiortowns. Some of them on passing her hut had often asked for a drink ofwater and had presented her with some fishes. Now as they passed herthey seemed to beat and trample upon her while their compassionateor disdainful looks penetrated through her panuelo and stung herface. When these travelers had finally passed she sighed and raised thepanuelo an instant to see how far she still was from the town. Thereyet remained a few telegraph poles to be passed before reaching the_bantayan_, or little watch-house, at the entrance to the town. Neverhad that distance seemed so great to her.

  Beside the road there grew a leafy bamboo thicket in whose shade shehad rested at other times, and where her lover had talked so sweetly ashe helped her carry her basket of fruit and vegetables. Alas, all thatwas past, like a dream! The lover had become her husband and a cabezade barangay, and then trouble had commenced to knock at her door. Asthe sun was beginning to shine hotly, the soldiers asked her if she didnot want to rest there. "Thanks, no!" was the horrified woman's answer.

  Real terror seized her when they neared the town. She threw heranguished gaze in all directions, but no refuge offered itself,only wide rice-fields, a small irrigating ditch, and some stuntedtrees; there was not a cliff or even a rock upon which she might dashherself to pieces! Now she regretted that she had come so far withthe soldiers; she longed for the deep river that flowed by her hut,whose high and rock-strewn banks would have offered such a sweetdeath. But again the thought of her sons, especially of Crispin, ofwhose fate she was still ignorant, lightened the darkness of her night,and she was able to murmur resignedly, "Afterwards--afterwards--we'llgo and live in the depths of the forest."

  Drying her eyes and trying to look calm, she turned to her guards andsaid in a low voice, with an indefinable accent that was a complaintand a lament, a prayer and a reproach, sorrow condensed into sound,"Now we're in the town." Even the soldiers seemed touched as theyanswered her with a gesture. She struggled to affect a calm bearingwhile she went forward quickly.

  At that moment the church bells began to peal out, announcing the endof the high mass. Sisa hurried her steps so as to avoid, if possible,meeting the people who were coming out, but in vain, for no meansoffered to escape encountering th
em. With a bitter smile she salutedtwo of her acquaintances, who merely turned inquiring glances uponher, so that to avoid further mortification she fixed her gaze onthe ground, and yet, strange to say, she stumbled over the stones inthe road! Upon seeing her, people paused for a moment and conversedamong themselves as they gazed at her, all of which she saw and feltin spite of her downcast eyes.

  She heard the shameless tones of a woman who asked from behind at thetop of her voice, "Where did you catch her? And the money?" It was awoman without a tapis, or tunic, dressed in a green and yellow skirtand a camisa of blue gauze, easily recognizable from her costume asa _querida_ of the soldiery. Sisa felt as if she had received a slapin the face, for that woman had exposed her before the crowd. Sheraised her eyes for a moment to get her fill of scorn and hate, butsaw the people far, far away. Yet she felt the chill of their staresand heard their whispers as she moved over the ground almost withoutknowing that she touched it.

  "Eh, this way!" a guard called to her. Like an automaton whosemechanism is breaking, she whirled about rapidly on her heels, thenwithout seeing or thinking of anything ran to hide herself. Shemade out a door where a sentinel stood and tried to enter it, buta still more imperious voice called her aside. With wavering stepsshe sought the direction of that voice, then felt herself pushedalong by the shoulders; she shut her eyes, took a couple of steps,and lacking further strength, let herself fall to the ground, firston her knees and then in a sitting posture. Dry and voiceless sobsshook her frame convulsively.

  Now she was in the barracks among the soldiers, women, hogs, andchickens. Some of the men were sewing at their clothes while theirthighs furnished pillows for their _queridas_, who were recliningon benches, smoking and gazing wearily at the ceiling. Other womenwere helping some of the men clean their ornaments and arms, hummingdoubtful songs the while.

  "It seems that the chicks have escaped, for you've brought only theold hen!" commented one woman to the new arrivals,--whether alludingto Sisa or the still clucking hen is not certain.

  "Yes, the hen is always worth more than the chicks," Sisa herselfanswered when she observed that the soldiers were silent.

  "Where's the sergeant?" asked one of the guards in a disgustedtone. "Has report been made to the alferez yet?"

  A general shrugging of shoulders was his answer, for no one was goingto trouble himself inquiring about the fate of a poor woman.

  There Sisa spent two hours in a state of semi-idiocy, huddled in acorner with her head hidden in her arms and her hair falling down indisorder. At noon the alferez was informed, and the first thing thathe did was to discredit the curate's accusation.

  "Bah! Tricks of that rascally friar," he commented, as he orderedthat the woman be released and that no one should pay any attentionto the matter. "If he wants to get back what he's lost, let him askSt. Anthony or complain to the nuncio. Out with her!"

  Consequently, Sisa was ejected from the barracks almost violently,as she did not try to move herself. Finding herself in the street, sheinstinctively started to hurry toward her house, with her head bared,her hair disheveled, and her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The sunburned in its zenith with never a cloud to shade its flashing disk;the wind shook the leaves of the trees lightly along the dry road,while no bird dared stir from the shade of their branches.

  At last Sisa reached her hut and entered it in silence, She walked allabout it and ran in and out for a time. Then she hurried to old Tasio'shouse and knocked at the door, but he was not at home. The unhappywoman then returned to her hut and began to call loudly for Basilioand Crispin, stopping every few minutes to listen attentively. Hervoice came back in an echo, for the soft murmur of the water in theneighboring river and the rustling of the bamboo leaves were theonly sounds that broke the stillness. She called again and again asshe climbed the low cliffs, or went down into a gully, or descendedto the river. Her eyes rolled about with a sinister expression, nowflashing up with brilliant gleams, now becoming obscured like thesky on a stormy night; it might be said that the light of reason wasflickering and about to be extinguished.

  Again returning to her hut, she sat down on the mat where she hadlain the night before. Raising her eyes, she saw a twisted remnantfrom Basilio's camisa at the end of the bamboo post in the _dinding_,or wall, that overlooked the precipice. She seized and examined itin the sunlight. There were blood stains on it, but Sisa hardly sawthem, for she went outside and continued to raise and lower it beforeher eyes to examine it in the burning sunlight. The light was failingand everything beginning to grow dark around her. She gazed wide-eyedand unblinkingly straight at the sun.

  Still wandering about here and there, crying and wailing, she wouldhave frightened any listener, for her voice now uttered rare notes suchas are not often produced in the human throat. In a night of roaringtempest, when the whirling winds beat with invisible wings againstthe crowding shadows that ride upon it, if you should find yourselfin a solitary and ruined building, you would hear moans and sighswhich you might suppose to be the soughing of the wind as it beatson the high towers and moldering walls to fill you with terror andmake you shudder in spite of yourself; as mournful as those unknownsounds of the dark night when the tempest roars were the accents ofthat mother. In this condition night came upon her. Perhaps Heavenhad granted some hours of sleep while the invisible wing of an angel,brushing over her pallid countenance, might wipe out the sorrowsfrom her memory; perhaps such suffering was too great for weak humanendurance, and Providence had intervened with its sweet remedy,forgetfulness. However that may be, the next day Sisa wandered aboutsmiling, singing, and talking with all the creatures of wood and field.