CHAPTER XV
AS NIGHT COMES ON.
Great preparations had also been made in the house of Captain Tiago. We
are already acquainted with the man. His love for pomp and his pride in
being a resident of Manila made it necessary that he should outdo the
residents of the province in the splendor of his celebration. There
was another thing, too, which made it necessary that he should try
to eclipse all others-the fact that his daughter Maria Clara and
his future son-in-law were also there. His prospective connection
with Ibarra caused the Captain to be often spoken of among the people.
Yes, as a matter of fact, one of the most serious newspapers in
Manila had printed an article on its first page, headed "Imitate
Him!" in which they offered Ibarra much advice and highly eulogized
him. The article spoke of him as "the illustrious and rich young
capitalist." Two lines below, he was termed "the distinguished
philanthropist," and, in the following paragraph, referred to as the
"disciple of Minerva who went to his Mother Country to salute the
real birthplace of arts and sciences." Captain Tiago was burning with
generous emulation and was wondering whether he ought not to erect
a convent at his own expense.
Days before the week of festivities, numerous boxes of provisions and
drinks, colossal mirrors, pictures, paintings and his daughter's piano
had arrived at the house. Maria Clara and Aunt Isabel were already
living there. Captain Tiago came on the day before the beginning of the
festival. As he kissed his daughter's hand, he made her a present of
a beautiful religious relic. It was solid gold, and set with diamonds
and emeralds, and contained a little sliver from Saint Peter's boat,
in which Our Saviour sat while fishing.
The Captain's interview with his future son-in-law could not have
been more cordial. Naturally, the school house was the subject of
conversation. Captain Tiago wanted him to call the school "The San
Francisco School."
"Believe me!" he said. "San Francisco is a good patron saint. If
you call it 'The Primary School,' you gain nothing. Who is Primary,
anyway?"
Some friends of Maria Clara arrived and invited her to go for a walk.
"But return quickly," said the Captain to his daughter, who asked
for his permission. "You know that Father Damaso is going to dine
with us to-night. He has just arrived."
And turning to Ibarra who was deep in thought, he added: "You will
dine with us, too? You will be all alone at home."
"With the greatest pleasure, I assure you, if I did not have to be at
home to-night to receive visitors," replied the young man, mumbling
his words and evading Maria Clara's glance.
"Bring your friends along with you," replied Captain Tiago
cheerfully. "In my house there is always enough to eat. And, besides
I would like to have you and Father Damaso understand each other."
"There'll be time enough for that," replied Ibarra, putting on a
forced smile and making ready to accompany the young ladies.
They went downstairs. Maria Clara was walking between Victoria and
Iday, while Aunt Isabel followed behind.
As they passed down the street, people stood aside respectfully
and gave them the inside of the way. Maria Clara was surprisingly
beautiful now. Her paleness had disappeared, and although her eyes
were thoughtful, her mouth, on the contrary, seemed all smiles. With
that amiability known only to a happy maiden, she saluted friends she
had known from childhood who to-day were admirers of her youthful
beauty. In less than fifteen days she had regained that frank
confidence, that childish chatter, which seemed for awhile to have been
left behind in the narrow walls of the convent. It seemed as though
the butterfly upon leaving its shell knew all the flowers at once. It
was enough that she be given a moment of flight and an opportunity
to warm herself in the golden rays of the sun, in order to throw off
the rigidity of the chrysalis. New life shone out in every part of her
young being. Everything she met with was good and beautiful. Her love
was manifested with virginal grace, and innocent in thought, she saw
nothing to cause her to put on false blushes. However, she was wont
to cover her face with her fan when they joked with her, but her eyes
would smile and a gentle tremor would pass over her whole being.
In front of Captain Basilio's house were some young men who saluted
our acquaintances and invited them into the house. The merry voice
of Sinang was heard, as she descended the stairs on a run and at once
put an end to all excuses.
"Come up a moment so that I can go out with you," said she. "It
bores me to be among so many strangers who talk about nothing but
fighting-cocks and playing cards."
They went upstairs. The house was full of people. Some advanced to
greet Ibarra, whose name was known to all. They contemplated with
ecstacy Maria Clara's beauty, and some of the matrons murmured as
they chewed their betel-nut: "She looks like the Virgin!"
After they had partaken of chocolate they resumed their walk. In the
corner of the plaza a beggar was singing the romance of the fishes,
to the accompaniment of a guitar. He was a common sight, a man
miserably dressed and wearing a wide-brimmed hat made out of palm
leaves. His clothing consisted of a frock coat covered with patches,
and a pair of wide trousers such as the Chinese wear, but torn in many
places. From beneath the brim of his hat two fiery orbs flashed out a
ray of light. He was tall and from his manner seemed to be young. He
put a basket down on the ground and, afterwards walking away from
it a little distance, he uttered strange, unintelligible sounds. He
remained standing, completely isolated, as if he and the people in the
street were trying to avoid each other. Women approached his basket,
and dropped into it fish, fruit and rice. When there was no one else
to approach the basket, other sadder but less mournful sounds could
be heard; perhaps he was thanking them. He picked up his basket and
walked away to do the same in another place.
Maria Clara felt that this was a pitiful case. Full of interest,
she asked about the strange being.
"It is a leper," replied Iday. "He contracted the disease some four
years ago; some say by taking care of his mother, others by having
been confined in a damp prison. He lives there in the field near the
Chinese cemetery. He does not communicate with any one: everybody
flees from him on account of the fear of contagion. You should see his
fantastic little house! The wind, the rain and the sunshine go in and
out of it as a needle goes through cloth. They have prohibited him
from touching anything belonging to anybody. One day a little child
fell into the canal. The canal was deep, but this man happened to be
passing near and helped to get the little child out. The child's father
learned of it, made a complaint to the gobernadorcillo and the latter
ordered that he be given six stripes in the middle of the street,
the whip to be afterwards burned. That was atrocious! The leper ran
away howling; they pursued him and the gobernadorcillo cried out:
'Catch him! One might better be drowned than have that disease!'"
"That is true," murmured Maria Clara. And then, without noticing what
she was doing, she went up to the basket of the unfortunate wretch and
dropped into it the relic which her father had just presented to her.
"What have you done?" her friends asked her.
"I have nothing else to give him," she replied, concealing the tears
in her eyes by a smile.
"And what is he going to do with the relic?" said Victoria to
her. "One day they gave him money but he pushed it away from him with
his cane. Why would he care for it, if no one would accept anything
coming from him? If he could only eat the relic!"
Maria Clara looked longingly at the women who were selling provisions
and shrugged her shoulders.
But the leper approached the basket, picked up the piece of jewelry
which shone in his hands, knelt down, kissed it, and, after taking
off his hat, buried his face in the dust on which the young girl
had walked.
Maria Clara hid her face behind her fan and raised her handkerchief
to her eyes.