by José Rizal
CHAPTER LXIII
Christmas Eve
High up on the slope of the mountain near a roaring stream a hut builton the gnarled logs hides itself among the trees. Over its kogonthatch clambers the branching gourd-vine, laden with flowers andfruit. Deer antlers and skulls of wild boar, some with long tusks,adorn this mountain home, where lives a Tagalog family engaged inhunting and cutting firewood.
In the shade of a tree the grandsire was making brooms from the fibersof palm leaves, while a young woman was placing eggs, limes, and somevegetables in a wide basket. Two children, a boy and a girl, wereplaying by the side of another, who, pale and sad, with large eyesand a deep gaze, was seated on a fallen tree-trunk. In his thinnedfeatures we recognize Sisa's son, Basilio, the brother of Crispin.
"When your foot gets well," the little girl was saying to him,"we'll play hide-and-seek. I'll be the leader."
"You'll go up to the top of the mountain with us," added the littleboy, "and drink deer blood with lime-juice and you'll get fat, andthen I'll teach you how to jump from rock to rock above the torrent."
Basilio smiled sadly, stared at the sore on his foot, and then turnedhis gaze toward the sun, which shone resplendently.
"Sell these brooms," said the grandfather to the young woman, "andbuy something for the children, for tomorrow is Christmas."
"Firecrackers, I want some firecrackers!" exclaimed the boy.
"I want a head for my doll," cried the little girl, catching hold ofher sister's tapis.
"And you, what do you want?" the grandfather asked Basilio, who atthe question arose laboriously and approached the old man.
"Sir," he said, "I've been sick more than a month now, haven't I?"
"Since we found you lifeless and covered with wounds, two moons havecome and gone. We thought you were going to die."
"May God reward you, for we are very poor," replied Basilio. "But nowthat tomorrow is Christmas I want to go to the town to see my motherand my little brother. They will be seeking for me."
"But, my son, you're not yet well, and your town is far away. Youwon't get there by midnight."
"That doesn't matter, sir. My mother and my little brother must bevery sad. Every year we spend this holiday together. Last year thethree of us had a whole fish to eat. My mother will have been mourningand looking for me."
"You won't get to the town alive, boy! Tonight we're going to havechicken and wild boar's meat. My sons will ask for you when they comefrom the field."
"You have many sons while my mother has only us two. Perhaps shealready believes that I'm dead! Tonight I want to give her a pleasantsurprise, a Christmas gift, a son."
The old man felt the tears springing up into his eyes, so, placinghis hands on the boy's head, he said with emotion: "You're like anold man! Go, look for your mother, give her the Christmas gift--fromGod, as you say. If I had known the name of your town I would havegone there when you were sick. Go, my son, and may God and the LordJesus go with you. Lucia, my granddaughter, will go with you to thenearest town."
"What! You're going away?" the little boy asked him. "Down there aresoldiers and many robbers. Don't you want to see my firecrackers? Boom,boom, boom!"
"Don't you want to play hide-and-seek?" asked the little girl. "Haveyou ever played it? Surely there's nothing any more fun than to bechased and hide yourself?"
Basilio smiled, but with tears in his eyes, and caught up hisstaff. "I'll come back soon," he answered. "I'll bring my littlebrother, you'll see him and play with him. He's just about as big asyou are."
"Does he walk lame, too?" asked the little girl. "Then we'll make him'it' when we play hide-and-seek."
"Don't forget us," the old man said to him. "Take this dried meat asa present to your mother."
The children accompanied him to the bamboo bridge swung over thenoisy course of the stream. Lucia made him support himself on her arm,and thus they disappeared from the children's sight, Basilio walkingalong nimbly in spite of his bandaged leg.
The north wind whistled by, making the inhabitants of San Diegoshiver with cold. It was Christmas Eve and yet the town was wrappedin gloom. Not a paper lantern hung from the windows nor did a singlesound in the houses indicate the rejoicing of other years.
In the house of Capitan Basilio, he and Don Filipo--for the misfortunesof the latter had made them friendly--were standing by a window-gratingand talking, while at another were Sinang, her cousin Victoria,and the beautiful Iday, looking toward the street.
The waning moon began to shine over the horizon, illumining the cloudsand making the trees and houses east long, fantastic shadows.
"Yours is not a little good fortune, to get off free in thesetimes!" said Capitan Basilio to Don Filipo. "They've burned your books,yes, but others have lost more."
A woman approached the grating and gazed into the interior. Hereyes glittered, her features were emaciated, her hair loose anddishevelled. The moonlight gave her a weird aspect.
"Sisal" exclaimed Don Filipo in surprise. Then turning to CapitanBasilio, as the madwoman ran away, he asked, "Wasn't she in the houseof a physician? Has she been cured?"
Capitan Basilio smiled bitterly. "The physician was afraid theywould accuse him of being a friend of Don Crisostomo's, so he droveher from his house. Now she wanders about again as crazy as ever,singing, harming no one, and living in the woods."
"What else has happened in the town since we left it? I know that wehave a new curate and another alferez."
"These are terrible times, humanity is retrograding," murmured CapitanBasilio, thinking of the past. "The day after you left they found thesenior sacristan dead, hanging from a rafter in his own house. PadreSalvi was greatly affected by his death and took possession of allhis papers. Ah, yes, the old Sage, Tasio, also died and was buriedin the Chinese cemetery."
"Poor old man!" sighed Don Filipo. "What became of his books?"
"They were burned by the pious, who thought thus to please God. I wasunable to save anything, not even Cicero's works. The gobernadorcillodid nothing to prevent it."
Both became silent. At that moment the sad and melancholy song ofthe madwoman was heard.
"Do you know when Maria Clara is to be married?" Iday asked Sinang.
"I don't know," answered the latter. "I received a letter from herbut haven't opened it for fear of finding out. Poor Crisostomo!"
"They say that if it were not for Linares, they would hang CapitanTiago, so what was Maria Clara going to do?" observed Victoria.
A boy limped by, running toward the plaza, whence came the notes ofSisa's song. It was Basilio, who had found his home deserted and inruins. After many inquiries he had only learned that his mother wasinsane and wandering about the town--of Crispin not a word.
Basilio choked back his tears, stifled any expression of his sorrow,and without resting had started in search of his mother. On reachingthe town he was just asking about her when her song struck hisears. The unhappy boy overcame the trembling in his limbs and ran tothrow himself into his mother's arms.
The madwoman left the plaza and stopped in front of the house ofthe new alferez. Now, as formerly, there was a sentinel before thedoor, and a woman's head appeared at the window, only it was not theMedusa's but that of a comely young woman: alferez and unfortunateare not synonymous terms.
Sisa began to sing before the house with her gaze fixed on themoon, which soared majestically in the blue heavens among goldenclouds. Basilio saw her, but did not dare to approach' her. Walkingback and forth, but taking care not to get near the barracks, hewaited for the time when she would leave that place.
The young woman who was at the window listening attentively to themadwoman's song ordered the sentinel to bring her inside, but whenSisa saw the soldier approach her and heard his voice she was filledwith terror and took to flight at a speed of which only a dementedperson is capable. Basilio, fearing to lose her, ran after her,forgetful of the pains in his feet.
"Look how that boy's chasing the madwoman!" indignantly ex
claimeda woman in the street. Seeing that he continued to pursue her, shepicked up a stone and threw it at him, saying, "Take that! It's apity that the dog is tied up!"
Basilio felt a blow on his head, but paid no attention to it as hecontinued running. Dogs barked, geese cackled, several windows openedto let out curious faces but quickly closed again from fear of anothernight of terror.
Soon they were outside of the town. Sisa began to moderate her flight,but still a great distance separated her from her pursuer.
"Mother!" he called to her when he caught sight of her. Scarcely hadthe madwoman heard his voice when she again took to flight.
"Mother, it's I!" cried the boy in desperation, but the madwomandid not heed him, so he followed panting. They had now passed thecultivated fields and were near the wood; Basilio saw his mother enterit and he also went in. The bushes and shrubs, the thorny vines andprojecting roots of trees, hindered the movements of both. The sonfollowed his mother's shadowy form as it was revealed from time totime by the moonlight that penetrated through the foliage and intothe open spaces. They were in the mysterious wood of the Ibarra family.
The boy stumbled and fell several times, but rose again, each timewithout feeling pain. All his soul was centered in his eyes, followingthe beloved figure. They crossed the sweetly murmuring brook wheresharp thorns of bamboo that had fallen on the sand at its marginpierced his bare feet, but he did not stop to pull them out.
To his great surprise he saw that his mother had plunged into thethick undergrowth and was going through the wooden gateway that openedinto the tomb of the old Spaniard at the foot of the balete. Basiliotried to follow her in, but found the gate fastened. The madwomandefended the entrance with her emaciated arms and disheveled head,holding the gate shut with all her might.
"Mother, it's I, it's I! I'm Basilio, your son!" cried the boy as helet himself fall weakly.
But the madwoman did not yield. Bracing herself with her feet onthe ground, she offered an energetic resistance. Basilio beat thegate with his fists, with his Mood-stained head, he wept, but invain. Painfully he arose and examined the wall, thinking to scale it,but found no way to do so. He then walked around it and noticed thata branch of the fateful balete was crossed with one from anothertree. This he climbed and, his filial love working miracles, madehis way from branch to branch to the balete, from which he saw hismother still holding the gate shut with her head.
The noise made by him among the branches attracted Sisa'sattention. She turned and tried to run, but her son, letting himselffall from the tree, caught her in his arms and covered her with kisses,losing consciousness as he did so.
Sisa saw his blood-stained forehead and bent over him. Her eyes seemedto start from their sockets as she peered into his face. Those palefeatures stirred the sleeping cells of her brain, so that somethinglike a spark of intelligence flashed up in her mind and she recognizedher son. With a terrible cry she fell upon the insensible body ofthe boy, embracing and kissing him. Mother and son remained motionless.
When Basilio recovered consciousness he found his mother lifeless. Hecalled to her with the tenderest names, but she did not awake. Noticingthat she was not even breathing, he arose and went to the neighboringbrook to get some water in a banana leaf, with which to rub the pallidface of his mother, but the madwoman made not the least movement andher eyes remained closed.
Basilio gazed at her in terror. He placed his ear over her heart,but the thin, faded breast was cold, and her heart no longer beat. Heput his lips to hers, but felt no breathing. The miserable boy threwhis arms about the corpse and wept bitterly.
The moon gleamed majestically in the sky, the wandering breezes sighed,and down in the grass the crickets chirped. The night of light and joyfor so many children, who in the warm bosom of the family celebratethis feast of sweetest memories--the feast which commemorates thefirst look of love that Heaven sent to earth--this night when in allChristian families they eat, drink, dance, sing, laugh, play, caress,and kiss one another--this night, which in cold countries holds suchmagic for childhood with its traditional pine-tree covered with lights,dolls, candies, and tinsel, whereon gaze the round, staring eyes inwhich innocence alone is reflected--this night brought to Basilioonly orphanhood. Who knows but that perhaps in the home whence camethe taciturn Padre Salvi children also played, perhaps they sang
"La Nochebuena se viene, La Nochebuena se va." [172]
For a long time the boy wept and moaned. When at last he raised hishead he saw a man standing over him, gazing at the scene in silence.
"Are you her son?" asked the unknown in a low voice.
The boy nodded.
"What do you expect to do?"
"Bury her!"
"In the cemetery?"
"I haven't any money and, besides, the curate wouldn't allow it."
"Then?"
"If you would help me--"
"I'm very weak," answered the unknown as he sank slowly to the ground,supporting himself with both hands. "I'm wounded. For two days Ihaven't eaten or slept. Has no one come here tonight?"
The man thoughtfully contemplated the attractive features of the boy,then went on in a still weaker voice, "Listen! I, too, shall be deadbefore the day comes. Twenty paces from here, on the other side ofthe brook, there is a big pile of firewood. Bring it here, make apyre, put our bodies upon it, cover them over, and set fire to thewhole--fire, until we are reduced to ashes!"
Basilio listened attentively.
"Afterwards, if no one comes, dig here. You will find a lot of goldand it will all be yours. Take it and go to school."
The voice of the unknown was becoming every moment moreunintelligible. "Go, get the firewood. I want to help you."
As Basilio moved away, the unknown turned his face toward the eastand murmured, as though praying:
"I die without seeing the dawn brighten over my native land! You,who have it to see, welcome it--and forget not those who have fallenduring the night!"
He raised his eyes to the sky and his lips continued to move, as ifuttering a prayer. Then he bowed his head and sank slowly to the earth.
Two hours later Sister Rufa was on the back veranda of her housemaking her morning ablutions in order to attend mass. The pious womangazed at the adjacent wood and saw a thick column of smoke risingfrom it. Filled with holy indignation, she knitted her eyebrowsand exclaimed:
"What heretic is making a clearing on a holy day? That's why so manycalamities come! You ought to go to purgatory and see if you couldget out of there, savage!"
