CHAPTER XXI
DONA CONSOLACION.
Why were the windows in the alferez's house closed? Where was
the masculine face and the flannel shirt of the Medusa or Muse of
the Civil Guard while the procession was passing? Could she have
understood how unpleasant was the sight of the swelling veins of
her forehead, filled, it seemed, not with blood but with vinegar
and bile; of her large cigar, that worthy ornament of her red lips;
and of her envious look; could she have understood all of that, and,
giving way to a generous impulse, have refrained from disturbing the
gayety of the crowd by her sinister apparition?
Alas! Her generous impulses lived only in the golden age.
Her house was sad because other people were merry, as Sinang put
it. There neither lanterns nor flags could be seen. In fact, if the
sentry were not walking up and down in front of the gate, you would
have said that the house was unoccupied.
A feeble light illumined the disarranged sala, and made transparent
the oyster-shell windows filled with spider-webs and covered with
dust. The Senora, according to her custom, her hands folded, sat in
a wide arm-chair. She was dressed the same as every day, that is to
say, outrageously out of taste. In detail, she had a handkerchief
tied around her head, while short, slender locks of tangled hair
hung down on either side; a blue flannel shirt over another shirt
which should have been white; and a faded-out skirt which moulded
itself to her slender thighs as she sat with her legs crossed and
nervously wiggled her foot. From her mouth, came big puffs of smoke,
which she fastidiously blew up in the space toward which she looked
when her eyes were open.
That morning the Senora had not heard mass, not because she had not
cared to hear it, for on the contrary she wanted to show herself to
the multitude and to hear the sermon, but because her husband had not
permitted her to do so. As was usually the case, his prohibition was
accompanied by two or three insults, oaths and threats of kicking. The
alferez understood that his "female" dressed herself in a ridiculous
manner, and that it was not fitting to expose her to the eyes of the
people from the capital nor even the country districts.
But she did not understand it that way. She knew that she was
beautiful, attractive, that she had the manners of a queen and that
she dressed much better and more gorgeously than Maria Clara herself,
though to be sure the latter wore a tapis over her skirt while she
wore only the skirt. The alferez had to say to her: "Oh, shut your
mouth or I'll kick you till you do!"
Dona Consolacion did not care to be kicked, but she planned revenge.
The dark face of the Senora never had inspired confidence in anybody,
not even when she painted it. That morning she was exceptionally
uneasy, and as she walked from one end of the sala to the other, in
silence and as if meditating something terrible, her eyes shone like
those of a serpent about to be crushed. Her look was cold, luminous,
and penetrating and had something vicious, loathsome and cruel in it.
The slightest defect in anything, the most insignificant or unusual
noise brought forth an obscene and infamous expression; but no one
responded. To offer an excuse was a crime.
So the day passed. Encountering no obstacle in her way-her husband
had been invited out-she became saturated with bile.
Everything around bent itself before her. She met no resistance,
there was nothing upon which she could discharge the vials of her
wrath. Soldiers and servants crawled before her.
That she might not hear the rejoicing going on outside, she ordered
the windows to be closed, and charged the sentry not to permit any
one to enter. She tied a handkerchief around her head to prevent
it from bursting; and, in spite of the fact that the sun was still
shining brightly, she ordered the lamps lighted.
A madwoman who had been detained for disturbing the public peace was
taken to the barracks. The alferez was not there at the time and the
unhappy woman had to pass the night seated on a bench. The following
day the alferez returned. Fearing lest the unhappy woman should become
the butt of the crowd during the fiesta, he ordered the soldiers who
were guarding her to treat her with pity and give her something to
eat. Thus the demented woman passed two days.
Whether the proximity to Captain Tiago's house made it possible for
the sad song of Maria Clara to reach her ears, whether other strains
of music awoke in her memories of old songs, or whether there was
some other cause for it, at any rate, the madwoman began that night
to sing with a sweet and melancholy voice the songs of her youth. The
soldiers heard her and kept silent. Those songs brought back memories
of the old times.
Dona Consolacion also heard it in her sorrow, and became interested
in the person who was singing.
"Tell her to come upstairs at once!" she ordered, after some seconds
of meditation. Something like a smile passed over her dry lips.
They brought the woman and she presented herself without any
discomposure, and without manifesting either fear or surprise.
"Orderly, tell this woman in Tagalog to sing!" said the alfereza. "She
don't understand me; she does not know Spanish."
The demented woman understood the orderly and sang the song "Night."
Dona Consolacion listened to the beginning with a mocking smile which
disappeared gradually from her lips. She became attentive, then
more serious and pensive. The woman's voice, the sentiment of the
verses and the song itself impressed her. That dry and burning heart
was perhaps softened. She understood the song well: "Sadness, cold,
and dampness, wrapped in the mantle of Night descend from the sky,"
as the folk song puts it. It seemed that they were also descending
upon her heart. "The withered flower which during the day has paraded
its dress, desirous of applause and full of vanity, at nightfall
repenting, makes an effort to raise its faded petals to the sky, and
begs for a little shade in which to hide itself, so as to die without
the mockery of the light which saw it in its pomp, to die without
the vanity of its pride being seen, and begging for a drop of dew,
to weep over it. The night bird, leaving its solitary retreat in the
hollow of the old tree, disturbs the melancholy of the forests..."
"No, no! Do not sing!" exclaimed the alfereza in perfect Tagalog
and raising to her feet somewhat agitated. "Don't sing! Those verses
hurt me!"
The demented woman stopped. The orderly muttered "Bah!" and exclaimed
"She knows how to pata Tagalog!" and stood looking at the senora full
of surprise.
The Muse understood that she had been caught, and was ashamed. As
her nature was not that of a woman, her shame took the form of rage
and hatred. She pointed out the door to the impudent orderly and with
a kick closed it behind him. She took several turns about the room,
twisting a whip between her nervous hands, and then, stopping suddenly
in front of the demented woman, said in Spanish: "Dance!"
The demented one did not move.
"Dance! Dance!" she repeated in a threatening voice.
The poor woman looked at the Senora, her eyes devoid of expression. The
alfereza raised one arm and then the other, shaking them in a
menacing way.
She then leaped up in the air, and jumped around urging the other woman
to imitate her. The band in the procession could be heard playing
a slow, majestic march, but the Senora, leaping about furiously
was keeping time to different music than that the band was playing,
that music which resounded within her. A curious look appeared in the
madwoman's eyes, and a weak smile moved her pale lips. She liked the
Senora's dancing.
The alfereza stopped dancing as if ashamed. She raised the whip,
that terrible whip made in Ulango and improved by the alferez by
winding wire around it, that same terrible whip which the ladrones
and soldiers knew so well.
"Now it is your turn to dance ... dance!"
And she began to whip lightly the demented woman's bare feet.
The pale face contracted with pain, and she was obliged to defend
herself from the blows by her hands.
"Come! Go ahead!" she exclaimed with savage delight, and she passed
from lento to allegro-vivace in the use of her whip.
The unhappy woman screamed and quickly raised her feet.
"You have got to dance, you d-d Indian!" exclaimed the Senora and
the whip whizzed and whistled.
The woman let herself sink to the floor and tried to cover her
legs with her hands, at the same time looking with wild eyes at her
tormentor. Two heavy lashes on her back made her rise again. Now it was
no longer a scream; it was a howl which escaped from the unfortunate
woman. The thin shirt was torn, the skin broke open and the blood
oozed out.
The sight of blood excites a tiger; so, too, the sight of the blood
of her victim infuriated Dona Consolacion.
"Dance! dance! Curse you! D-n you! Dance! Cursed be the mother
who bore you!" she cried. "Dance, or I'll kill you by whipping you
to death!"
Then the alfereza, taking the woman with one hand and whipping her
with another, began to jump and dance.
The insane woman understood her at last and went on moving her arms
regardless of time or tune. A smile of satisfaction contracted the
lips of the teacher. It was like the smile of a female Mephistopheles
who had succeeded in developing a good pupil; it was full of hatred,
contempt, mockery and cruelty; a coarse laugh could not have expressed
more.
Absorbed in the enjoyment which the spectacle afforded her, she did
not hear her husband coming, until he opened the door with a kick.
The alferez appeared, pale and gloomy. He saw what was going on there
and looked daggers at his wife. She did not move from her tracks and
stood smiling in a cynical way.
In the gentlest manner possible, he put his hand on the shoulder of
the dancing woman and made her stop. The demented woman sighed and
slowly sat down on the blood-covered floor.
The silence continued. The alferez was breathing heavily. His wife
was observing him with her questioning eyes. She seized the whip
and in a calm and measured tone asked him: "What's the matter with
you? You have not said 'good evening' to me."
The alferez, without replying, called the orderly.
"Take this woman," he said, "and have Marta give her another shirt
and take care of her. Find her good food, and a good bed... Let him
look out who treats her badly!"
After carefully closing the door, he turned the key in the lock and
approached his senora.
"You want me to smash you?" he said, clenching his fists.
"What's the matter with you?" asked she, retreating a step or two.
"What's the matter with me?" he shouted, in a thundering voice, and,
giving vent to an oath, showed her a paper covered with scribbling. He
continued:
"Didn't you write this letter to the Alcalde, saying that I am paid
for permitting the gambling, d-n you? I don't know how I can keep
from smashing you."
"Go ahead! Try it if you dare!" said she, with a mocking smile. "He
who smashes me has got to be more of a man than you!"
He heard the insult, but he saw the whip. He seized one of the plates
which were on the table and threw it at her head. The woman, accustomed
to these fights, ducked quickly and the plate was shivered to pieces
against the wall. A glass, a cup, and a knife shared the same fortune.
"Coward!" she cried. "You dare not come near me!"
And then she spat at him to exasperate him more. The man, blind and
howling with rage, threw himself on her, but she, with wonderful
rapidity, struck him a few blows across the face with the whip, and
quickly escaped. Closing the door of her room with a slam, she locked
herself in. Roaring with rage and pain the alferez followed her, but,
coming up against the door, he could do nothing but belch forth a
string of blasphemies.
"Cursed be your ancestors, you swine! Open, d-n you! Open that door
or I'll break your skull!" he howled, pounding and kicking the panels.
Dona Consolacion did not reply. A moving of chairs and trunks could
be heard, as though some one was trying to raise a barricade of
household furniture. The house fairly shook with the oaths and kicks
of the husband.
"Don't you come in! Don't you come in!" she said, in a bitter
voice. "If you show yourself, I'll shoot you!"
The husband calmed down, little by little, and contented himself with
pacing from one end of the sala to the other like a wild animal in
its cage.
"Go and cool your head!" continued the woman in mockery. She seemed
to have concluded her preparations for defense.
"I swear that when I catch you, no one-not even God-will see you
again! I'll smash you so fine."
"Yes! Now you can say what you wish. You would not let me go to
mass. You would not let me fulfill my duty to God!" she said with
such sarcasm as she alone knew how to use.
The alferez took his helmet, straightened out his clothes, and walked
away several paces. But, at the end of several minutes, he returned
without making the slightest noise, for he had taken off his boots. The
servants, accustomed to these spectacles, paid no attention to them,
but the novelty of this move with the boots attracted their notice
and they gave each other the wink.
The alferez sat down on a chair next to the door and had the patience
to wait more than half an hour.
"Have you really gone out or are you there, you he-goat?" asked a
voice from time to time, changing the epithets but raising the tone.
Finally, she commenced to take away the furniture from her
barricade. He heard the noise and smiled.
"Orderly! Has the senor gone out?" cried Dona Consolacion.
The orderly at a signal from the alferez, replied: "Yes, senora,
he has gone out!"
He could hear her laugh triumphantly. She drew back the bolt. The
husband arose to his feet slowly; the door was opened.
A cry, the noise of a body falling, oaths, howling, swearing, blows,
hoarse voices. Who can describe what took place in the darkness of
the bedroom?
The orderly, going out to the kitchen, made a very expressive gesture
to the cook.
"And now you'll catch it!" said the latter.
"I? No, sir. The town will, not I. She asked me if he had gone out,
not if he had returned."