by José Rizal
CHAPTER XXXIX
Dona Consolacion
Why were the windows closed in the house of the alferez? Wherewere the masculine features and the flannel camisa of the Medusa orMuse of the Civil Guard while the procession was passing? Had DonaConsolacion realized how disagreeable were her forehead seamed withthick veins that appeared to conduct not blood but vinegar and gall,and the thick cigar that made a fit ornament for her purple lips,and her envious leer, and yielding to a generous impulse had shewished not to disturb the pleasure of the populace by her sinisterappearance? Ah, for her generous impulses existed in the GoldenAge! The house, showed neither lanterns nor banners and was gloomyprecisely because the town was making merry, as Sinang said, and butfor the sentinel walking before the door appeared to be uninhabited.
A dim light shone in the disordered sala, rendering transparentthe dirty concha-panes on which the cobwebs had fastened and thedust had become incrusted. The lady of the house, according toher indolent custom, was dozing on a wide sofa. She was dressed asusual, that is, badly and horribly: tied round her head a panuelo,from beneath which escaped thin locks of tangled hair, a camisaof blue flannel over another which must once have been white, anda faded skirt which showed the outlines of her thin, flat thighs,placed one over the other and shaking feverishly. From her mouthissued little clouds of smoke which she puffed wearily in whateverdirection she happened to be looking when she opened her eyes. If atthat moment Don Francisco de Canamaque [107] could have seen her, hewould have taken her for a cacique of the town or the _mankukulam_,and then decorated his discovery with commentaries in the vernacularof the markets, invented by him for her particular use.
That morning she had not attended mass, not because she had not sodesired, for on the contrary she had wished to show herself to themultitude and to hear the sermon, but her spouse had not permittedher to do so, his refusal being accompanied as usual by two or threeinsults, oaths, and threats of kicking. The alferez knew that hismate dressed ridiculously and had the appearance of what is known as a"_querida_ of the soldiers," so he did not care to expose her to thegaze of strangers and persons from the capital. But she did not sounderstand it. She knew that she was beautiful and attractive, that shehad the airs of a queen and dressed much better and with more splendorthan Maria Clara herself, who wore a tapis while she went in a flowingskirt. It was therefore necessary for the alferez to threaten her,"Either shut up, or I'll kick you back to your damned town!" DonaConsolacion did not care to return to her town at the toe of a boot,but she meditated revenge.
Never had the dark face of this lady been such as to inspire confidencein any one, not even when she painted, but that morning it greatlyworried the servants, especially when they saw her move about the housefrom one part to another, silently, as if meditating something terribleor malign. Her glance reflected the look that springs from the eyes ofa serpent when caught and about to be crushed; it was cold, luminous,and penetrating, with something fascinating, loathsome, and cruel init. The most insignificant error, the least unusual noise, drew fromher a vile insult that struck into the soul, but no one answered her,for to excuse oneself would have been an additional fault.
So the day passed. Not encountering any obstacle that would block herway,--her husband had been invited out,--she became saturated withbile, the cells of her whole organism seemed to become charged withelectricity which threatened to burst in a storm of hate. Everythingabout her folded up as do the flowers at the first breath of thehurricane, so she met with no resistance nor found any point or highplace to discharge her evil humor. The soldiers and servants kept awayfrom her. That she might not hear the sounds of rejoicing outside shehad ordered the windows closed and charged the sentinel to let no oneenter. She tied a handkerchief around her head as if to keep it frombursting and, in spite of the fact that the sun was still shining,ordered the lamps to be lighted.
Sisa, as we saw, had been arrested as a disturber of the peaceand taken to the barracks. The alferez was not then present, sothe unfortunate woman had had to spend the night there seated on abench in an abandoned attitude. The next day the alferez saw her,and fearing for her in those days of confusion nor caring to risk adisagreeable scene, he had charged the soldiers to look after her,to treat her kindly, and to give her something to eat. Thus themadwoman spent two days.
Tonight, whether the nearness to the house of Capitan Tiago had broughtto her Maria Clara's sad song or whether other recollections awokein her old melodies, whatever the cause, Sisa also began to sing in asweet and melancholy voice the _kundiman_ of her youth. The soldiersheard her and fell silent; those airs awoke old memories of the daysbefore they had been corrupted. Dona Consolacion also heard them in hertedium, and on learning who it was that sang, after a few moments ofmeditation, ordered that Sisa be brought to her instantly. Somethinglike a smile wandered over her dry lips.
When Sisa was brought in she came calmly, showing neither wonder norfear. She seemed to see no lady or mistress, and this wounded thevanity of the Muse, who endeavored to inspire respect and fear. Shecoughed, made a sign to the soldiers to leave her, and taking downher husband's whip, said to the crazy woman in a sinister tone,"Come on, _magcantar icau!_" [108]
Naturally, Sisa did not understand such Tagalog, and this ignorancecalmed the Medusa's wrath, for one of the beautiful qualities of thislady was to try not to know Tagalog, or at least to appear not to knowit. Speaking it the worst possible, she would thus give herself theair of a genuine _orofea_, [109] as she was accustomed to say. Butshe did well, for if she martyrized Tagalog, Spanish fared no betterwith her, either in regard to grammar or pronunciation, in spite ofher husband, the chairs and the shoes, all of which had done whatthey could to teach her.
One of the words that had cost her more effort than the hieroglyphicscost Champollion was the name _Filipinas_. The story goes that onthe day after her wedding, when she was talking with her husband, whowas then a corporal, she had said _Pilipinas_. The corporal thoughtit his duty to correct her, so he said, slapping her on the head,"Say _Felipinas_, woman! Don't be stupid! Don't you know that's whatyour damned country is called, from _Felipe?_"
The woman, dreaming through her honeymoon, wished to obey and said_Felepinas_. To the corporal it seemed that she was getting nearer toit, so he increased the slaps and reprimanded her thus: "But, woman,can't you pronounce _Felipe?_ Don't forget it; you know the king,Don Felipe--the fifth--. Say _Felipe_, and add to it _nas_, whichin Latin means 'islands of Indians,' and you have the name of yourdamned country!"
Consolacion, at that time a washerwoman, patted her bruises andrepeated with symptoms of losing her patience, "Fe-li-pe, Felipe--nas,Fe-li-pe-nas, Felipinas, so?"
The corporal saw visions. How could it be _Felipenas_ instead of_Felipinas?_ One of two things: either it was _Felipenas_ or it wasnecessary to say _Felipi!_ So that day he very prudently dropped thesubject. Leaving his wife, he went to consult the books. Here hisastonishment reached a climax: he rubbed his eyes--let's see--slowly,now! _F-i-l-i-p-i-n-a-s_, Filipinas! So all the well-printed booksgave it--neither he nor his wife was right!
"How's this?" he murmured. "Can history lie? Doesn't this book say thatAlonso Saavedra gave the country that name in honor of the prince,Don Felipe? How was that name corrupted? Can it be that this AlonsoSaavedra was an Indian?" [110]
With these doubts he went to consult the sergeant Gomez, who, asa youth, had wanted to be a curate. Without deigning to look atthe corporal the sergeant blew out a mouthful of smoke and answeredwith great pompousness, "In ancient times it was pronounced _Filipi_instead of _Felipe_. But since we moderns have become Frenchified wecan't endure two _i's_ in succession, so cultured people, especiallyin Madrid--you've never been in Madrid?--cultured people, as I say,have begun to change the first _i_ to _e_ in many words. This iscalled modernizing yourself."
The poor corporal had never been in Madrid--here was the cause ofhis failure to understand the riddle: what things are learned inMadrid! "So now it's proper to say--"
"In the ancient style, man! This country's not yet cultured! In theancient style, _Filipinas!_" exclaimed Gomez disdainfully.
The corporal, even if he was a bad philologist, was yet a goodhusband. What he had just learned his spouse must also know, so heproceeded with her education: "Consola, what do you call your damnedcountry?"
"What should I call it? Just what you taught me: _Felifinas!_"
"I'll throw a chair at you, you ----! Yesterday you pronounced iteven better in the modern style, but now it's proper to pronounce itlike an ancient: _Feli_, I mean, _Filipinas!_"
"Remember that I'm no ancient! What are you thinking about?"
"Never mind! Say _Filipinas!_"
"I don't want to. I'm no ancient baggage, scarcely thirty yearsold!" she replied, rolling up her sleeves and preparing herself forthe fray.
"Say it, you ----, or I'll throw this chair at you!"
Consolacion saw the movement, reflected, then began to stammer withheavy breaths, "_Feli-, Fele-, File--_"
Pum! Crack! The chair finished the word. So the lesson ended infisticuffs, scratchings, slaps. The corporal caught her by the hair;she grabbed his goatee, but was unable to bite because of her looseteeth. He let out a yell, released her and begged her pardon. Bloodbegan to flow, one eye got redder than the other, a camisa was torninto shreds, many things came to light, but not _Filipinas_.
Similar incidents occurred every time the question of language cameup. The corporal, watching her linguistic progress, sorrowfullycalculated that in ten years his mate would have completely forgottenhow to talk, and this was about what really came to pass. When theywere married she still knew Tagalog and could make herself understoodin Spanish, but now, at the time of our story, she no longer spoke anylanguage. She had become so addicted to expressing herself by meansof signs--and of these she chose the loudest and most impressive--thatshe could have given odds to the inventor of Volapuk.
Sisa, therefore, had the good fortune not to understand her, sothe Medusa smoothed out her eyebrows a little, while a smile ofsatisfaction lighted up her face; undoubtedly she did not know Tagalog,she was an _orofea!_
"Boy, tell her in Tagalog to sing! She doesn't understand me, shedoesn't understand Spanish!"
The madwoman understood the boy and began to sing the _Song ofthe Night_. Dona Consolacion listened at first with a sneer, whichdisappeared little by little from her lips. She became attentive, thenserious, and even somewhat thoughtful. The voice, the sentiment in thelines, and the song itself affected her--that dry and withered heartwas perhaps thirsting for rain. She understood it well: "The sadness,the cold, and the moisture that descend from the sky when wrapped inthe mantle of night," so ran the _kundiman_, seemed to be descendingalso on her heart. "The withered and faded flower which during theday flaunted her finery, seeking applause and full of vanity, ateventide, repentant and disenchanted, makes an effort to raise herdrooping petals to the sky, seeking a little shade to hide herself anddie without the mocking of the light that saw her in her splendor,without seeing the vanity of her pride, begging also that a littledew should weep upon her. The nightbird leaves his solitary retreat,the hollow of an ancient trunk, and disturbs the sad loneliness ofthe open places--"
"No, don't sing!" she exclaimed in perfect Tagalog, as she rose withagitation. "Don't sing! Those verses hurt me."
The crazy woman became silent. The boy ejaculated, "_Aba!_ She talksTagalog!" and stood staring with admiration at his mistress, who,realizing that she had given herself away, was ashamed of it, and asher nature was not that of a woman, the shame took the aspect of rageand hate; so she showed the door to the imprudent boy and closed itbehind him with a kick.
Twisting the whip in her nervous hands, she took a few turns aroundthe room, then stopping suddenly in front of the crazy woman, saidto her in Spanish, "Dance!" But Sisa did not move.
"Dance, dance!" she repeated in a sinister tone.
The madwoman looked at her with wandering, expressionless eyes, whilethe alfereza lifted one of her arms, then the other, and shook them,but to no purpose, for Sisa did not understand. Then she began tojump about and shake herself, encouraging Sisa to imitate her. Inthe distance was to be heard the music of the procession playinga grave and majestic march, but Dona Consolacion danced furiously,keeping other time to other music resounding within her. Sisa gazed ather without moving, while her eyes expressed curiosity and somethinglike a weak smile hovered around her pallid lips: the lady's dancingamused her. The latter stopped as if ashamed, raised the whip,--thatterrible whip known to thieves and soldiers, made in Ulango [111]and perfected by the alferez with twisted wires,--and said, "Now it'syour turn to dance--dance!"
She began to strike the madwoman's bare feet gently with thewhip. Sisa's face drew up with pain and she was forced to protectherself with her hands.
"Aha, now you're starting!" she exclaimed with savage joy, passingfrom _lento_ to _allegro vivace_.
The afflicted Sisa gave a cry of pain and quickly raised her foot.
"You've got to dance, you Indian--!" The whip swung and whistled.
Sisa let herself fall to the floor and placed both hands on her kneeswhile she gazed at her tormentor with wildly-staring eyes. Two sharpcuts of the whip on her shoulder made her stand up, and it was notmerely a cry but a howl that the unfortunate woman uttered. Her thincamisa was torn, her skin broken, and the blood was flowing.
The sight of blood arouses the tiger; the blood of her victim arousedDona Consolacion. "Dance, damn you, dance! Evil to the mother whobore you!" she cried. "Dance, or I'll flog you to death!" She thencaught Sisa with one hand and, whipping her with the other, began todance about.
The crazy woman at last understood and followed the example byswinging her arms about awkwardly. A smile of satisfaction curledthe lips of her teacher, the smile of a female Mephistopheles whosucceeds in getting a great pupil. There were in it hate, disdain,jest, and cruelty; with a burst of demoniacal laughter she could nothave expressed more.
Thus, absorbed in the joy of the sight, she was not aware of thearrival of her husband until he opened the door with a loud kick. Thealferez appeared pale and gloomy, and when he saw what was going onhe threw a terrible glance at his wife, who did not move from herplace but stood smiling at him cynically.
The alferez put his hand as gently as he could on the shoulder ofthe strange dancer and made her stop. The crazy woman sighed and sankslowly to the floor covered with her own blood.
The silence continued. The alferez breathed heavily, while his wifewatched him with questioning eyes. She picked up the whip and askedin a smooth, soft voice, "What's the matter with you? You haven'teven wished me good evening."
The alferez did not answer, but instead called the boy and said to him,"Take this woman away and tell Marta to get her some other clothesand attend to her. You give her something to eat and a good bed. Takecare that she isn't ill-treated! Tomorrow she'll be taken to SenorIbarra's house."
Then he closed the door carefully, bolted it, and approached hiswife. "You're tempting me to kill you!" he exclaimed, doubling uphis fists.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked, rising and drawing awayfrom him.
"What's the matter with me!" he yelled in a voice of thunder, lettingout an oath and holding up before her a sheet of paper covered withscrawls. "Didn't you write this letter to the alcalde saying thatI'm bribed to permit gambling, huh? I don't know why I don't beatyou to death."
"Let's see you! Let's see you try it if you dare!" she replied witha jeering laugh. "The one who beats me to death has got to be moreof a man than you are!"
He heard the insult, but saw the whip. Catching up a plate from thetable, he threw it at her head, but she, accustomed to such fights,dodged quickly and the plate was shattered against the wall. A cupand saucer met with a similar fate.
"Coward!" she yelled; "you're afraid to come near me!" And toexasperate him the more, she spat upon him.
The alferez went blind from rage and with a roar attempted
to throwhimself upon her, but she, with astonishing quickness, hit him acrossthe face with the whip and ran hurriedly into an inner room, shuttingand bolting the door violently behind her. Bellowing with rage andpain, he followed, but was only able to run against the door, whichmade him vomit oaths.
"Accursed be your offspring, you sow! Open, open, or I'll break yourhead!" he howled, beating the door with his hands and feet.
No answer was heard, but instead the scraping of chairs and trunks asif she was building a barricade with the furniture. The house shookunder the kicks and curses of the alferez.
"Don't come in, don't come in!" called the sour voice inside. "Ifyou show yourself, I'll shoot you."
By degrees he appeared to become calm and contented himself withwalking up and down the room like a wild beast in its cage.
"Go out into the street and cool off your head!" the woman continuedto jeer at him, as she now seemed to have completed her preparationsfor defense.
"I swear that if I catch you, even God won't save you, you old sow!"
"Yes, now you can say what you like. You didn't want me to go tomass! You didn't let me attend to my religious duties!" she answeredwith such sarcasm as only she knew how to use.
The alferez put on his helmet, arranged his clothing a little, andwent out with heavy steps, but returned after a few minutes withoutmaking the least noise, having taken off his shoes. The servants,accustomed to these brawls, were usually bored, but this novelty of theshoes attracted their attention, so they winked to one another. Thealferez sat down quietly in a chair at the side of the Sublime Portand had the patience to wait for more than half an hour.
"Have you really gone out or are you still there, old goat?" askedthe voice from time to time, changing the epithets and raising thetone. At last she began to take away the furniture piece by piece. Heheard the noise and smiled.
"Boy, has your master gone out?" cried Dona Consolacion.
At a sign from the alferez the boy answered, "Yes, senora, he'sgone out."
A gleeful laugh was heard from her as she pulled back the bolt. Slowlyher husband arose, the door opened a little way--
A yell, the sound of a falling body, oaths, howls, curses, blows,hoarse voices--who can tell what took place in the darkness ofthat room?
As the boy went out into the kitchen he made a significant sign tothe cook, who said to him, "You'll pay for that."
"I? In any case the whole town will! She asked me if he had gone out,not if he had come back!"
