by José Rizal
"See!" said the Mongol to Senor Juan, inserting the bar and turningit. "See how I can manipulate the thing up here and unaided!"
Senor Juan was full of admiration.
"Who taught you mechanics?" he asked.
"My father, my late father," replied the man, with his peculiar smile,"and Don Saturnino, the grandfather of Don Crisostomo, taught him."
"You must know then about Don Saturnino----"
"Oh, many things! Not only did he beat his workmen and expose themto the sun, but he knew how to awaken sleepers and put waking men tosleep. Ah, you will see presently what he could teach! You will see!"
On a table with Persian spread, beside the trench, were the thingsto be put into the cornerstone, and the glass box and leaden cylinderwhich were to preserve for the future these souvenirs, this mummy ofan epoch.
Under two long booths near at hand were sumptuous tables, one for theschool-children, without wine, and heaped with fruits; the other forthe distinguished visitors. The booths were joined by a sort of bowerof leafy branches, where were chairs for the musicians, and tables withcakes, confitures, and carafes of water, for the public in general.
The crowd, gay in garments of many colors, was massed under the treesto avoid the ardent rays of the sun, and the children, to better seethe ceremony of the dedication, had climbed up among the branches.
Soon bands were heard in the distance. The Mongol carefully examinedhis construction; he seemed nervous. A man with the appearance of apeasant standing near him on the edge of the excavation and closebeside the capstan watched all his movements. It was Elias, welldisguised by his salakot and rustic costume.
The musicians arrived, preceded by a crowd of old and young in motleyarray. Behind came the alcalde, the municipal guard officers, themonks, and the Spanish Government clerks. Ibarra was talking withthe alcalde; Captain Tiago, the alferez, the curate and a number ofthe rich country gentlemen accompanied the ladies, whose gay parasolsgleamed in the sunshine.
As they approached the trench, Ibarra felt his heartbeat. Instinctively he raised his eyes to the strange scaffolding. TheMongol saluted him respectfully, and looked at him intently amoment. Ibarra recognized Elias through his disguise, and themysterious helmsman, by a significant glance, recalled the warningin the church.
The curate put on his robes and began the office. The one-eyedsacristan held his book; a choir boy had in charge the holy waterand sprinkler. The men uncovered, and the crowd stood so silent that,though the father read low, his voice was heard to tremble.
The manuscripts, journals, money, and medals to be preserved inremembrance of this day had been placed in the glass box and the boxitself hermetically sealed within the leaden cylinder.
"Senor Ibarra, will you place the box in the stone? The curate iswaiting for you," said the alcalde in Ibarra's ear.
"I should do so with great pleasure," said Ibarra, "but it would bea usurpation of the honor; that belongs to the notary, who must drawup the written process."
The notary gravely took the box, descended the carpeted stairway whichled to the bottom of the trench, and with due solemnity depositedhis burden in the hollow of the stone already laid. The curate tookthe sprinkler and sprinkled the stone with holy water.
Each one was now to deposit his trowel of cement on the surface ofthe lower stone, to seal it to the stone held suspended by the cranewhen that should be lowered.
Ibarra offered the alcalde a silver trowel, on which was engravedthe date of the fete, but before using it His Excellency pronounceda short allocution in Castilian.
"Citizens of San Diego," he said, "we have the honor of presidingat a ceremony whose importance you know without explanations. We arefounding a school, and the school is the basis of society, the bookwherein is written the future of each race.
"Citizens of San Diego! Thank God, who has given you thesepriests! Thank the Mother Country, who spreads civilization in thesefertile isles and protects them with the covering of her gloriousmantle. Thank God, again, who has enlightened you by his priests fromhis divine Word.
"And now that the first stone of this building has been blessed, we,the alcalde of this province, in the name of His Majesty the King,whom God guard; in the name of the illustrious Spanish Government,and under the protection of its spotless and ever-victorious flag,consecrate this act and begin the building of this school!
"Citizens of San Diego, long live the king! Long live Spain! Longlive the religious orders! Long live the Catholic church!"
"Long live the Senor Alcalde!" replied many voices.
Then the high official descended majestically, to the strains of theorchestras, put his trowel of cement on the stone, and came back asmajestically as he had gone down.
The Government clerks applauded.
Ibarra offered the trowel to the curate, who descended slowly in histurn. In the middle of the staircase he raised his eyes to the greatstone suspended above, but he stopped only a second, and continuedthe descent. This time the applause was a little warmer, CaptainTiago and the monks adding theirs to that of the clerks.
The notary followed. He gallantly offered the trowel to Maria Clara,but she refused, with a smile. The monks, the alferez, and othersdescended in turn, Captain Tiago not being forgotten.
Ibarra was left. He had ordered the stone to be lowered when thecurate remembered him.
"You do not put on your trowelful, Senor Ibarra?" said the curate,with a familiar and jocular air.
"I should be Juan Palomo, who made the soup and then ate it," repliedCrisostomo in the same light tone.
"You go down, of course," said the alcalde, taking him by the armin friendly fashion. "If not, I shall order that the stone be keptsuspended, and we shall stay here till the Day of Judgment!"
Such a menace forced Ibarra to obey. He exchanged the silver trowelfor a larger one of iron, as some people noticed, and started outcalmly. Elias gave him an indefinable look; his whole being seemedin it. The Mongol's eyes were on the abyss at his feet.
Ibarra, after glancing rapidly at the block over his head, at Elias,and at the Mongol, said to Senor Juan, in a voice that trembled:
"Give me the tray and bring me the other trowel."
He stood alone. Elias no longer looked at him, his eyes were rivetedon the hands of the Mongol, who, bending over, was anxiously followingthe movements of Ibarra. Then the sound of Ibarra's trowel was heard,accompanied by the low murmur of the clerks' voices as they felicitatedthe alcalde on his speech.
Suddenly a frightful noise rent the air. A pulley attached to thebase of the crane sprang out, dragging after it the capstan, whichstruck the crane like a lever. The beams tottered, the cables broke,and the whole fabric collapsed with a deafening roar and in a whirlwindof dust.
A thousand voices filled the place with cries of horror. People fledin all directions. Only Maria Clara and Brother Salvi remained wherethey were, pale, mute, incapable of motion.
As the cloud of dust thinned, Ibarra was seen upright among the beams,joists and cables, between the capstan and the great stone that hadfallen. He still held the trowel in his hand. With eyes frightful tolook at, he regarded a corpse half buried under the beams at his feet.
"Are you unhurt? Are you alive? For God's sake, speak!" cried someone at last.
"A miracle! A miracle!" cried others.
"Come, take out the body of this man," said Ibarra, as if waking froma dream. At the sound of his voice Maria Clara would have fallen butfor the arms of her friends.
Then everything was confusion. All talked at once, gestured, wenthither and thither, and knew not what to do.
"Who is killed?" demanded the alferez.
"Arrest the head builder!" were the first words the alcalde couldpronounce.
They brought up the body and examined it. It was that of theMongol. The heart no longer beat.
The priests shook Ibarra's hand, and warmly congratulated him.
"When I think that I was there a moment before!" said one of theclerks.
"Don Pascal!" cried some of the Spaniards.
"Senores, the Senor Ibarra lives, while I, if I had not been crushed,should have died of fright."
Ibarra had been to inform himself of Maria Clara.
"Let the fete continue, Senor Ibarra," said the alcalde, as he cameback. "Thank God, the dead is neither priest nor Spaniard! You oughtto celebrate your escape! What if the stone had fallen on you!"
"He had presentiments!" cried the notary. "He did not want to go down,that was plain to be seen!"
"It's only an Indian!"
"Let the fete go on! Give us music! Mourning won't raise thedead. Captain, let the inquest be held! Arrest the head builder!"
"Shall he be put in the stocks?"
"Yes, in the stocks! Music, music! The head builder in the stocks!"
"Senor Alcalde," said Ibarra, "if mourning won't raise the dead,neither will the imprisonment of a man whose guilt is not proven. Igo security for his person and ask his liberty, for these fete daysat least."
"Very well! But let him not repeat it!" said the alcalde.
All kinds of rumors circulated among the people. The idea of a miraclewas generally accepted. Many said they had seen descend into thetrench at the fatal moment a figure in a dark costume, like that ofthe Franciscans. 'Twas no doubt San Diego himself.
"A bad beginning," muttered old Tasio, shaking his head as he movedaway.
XXVII.
FREE THOUGHT.
Ibarra, who had gone home for a change of clothing, had just finisheddressing when a servant announced that a peasant wished to seehim. Supposing it to be one of his laborers, he had him taken tohis work room, which was at the same time his library and chemicallaboratory. To his great surprise he found himself face to face withthe mysterious Elias.
"You saved my life," said the man, speaking in Tagalo, andunderstanding the movement of Ibarra. "I have not half paid mydebt. Do not thank me. It is I who should thank you. I have come toask a favor."
"Speak!" said his listener.
Elias fixed his melancholy eyes on Ibarra's and went on:
"When the justice of man tries to clear up this mystery, and yourtestimony is taken, I entreat you not to speak to any one of thewarning I gave you."
"Do not be alarmed," said Crisostomo, losing interest; "I know youare pursued, but I'm not an informer."
"I don't speak for myself, but for you," said Elias, with somehaughtiness. "I have no fear of men."
Ibarra grew surprised. This manner of speaking was new, and did notcomport with the state or fortunes of the helmsman.
"Explain yourself!" he demanded.
"I am not speaking enigmas. To insure your safety, it is necessarythat your enemies believe you blind and confiding."
"To insure my safety?" said Ibarra, thoroughly aroused.
"You undertake a great enterprise," Elias went on. "You havea past. Your grandfather and your father had enemies. It is notcriminals who provoke the most hatred; it is honorable men."
"You know my enemies, then?"
Elias hesitated.
"I knew one; the dead man."
"I regret his death," said Ibarra; "from him I might have learnedmore."
"Had he lived, he would have escaped the trembling hand of men'sjustice. God has judged him!"
"Do you also believe in the miracle of which the people talk?"
"If I believed in such a miracle, I should not believe in God, and Ibelieve in Him; I have more than once felt His hand. At the moment whenthe scaffolding gave way I placed myself beside the criminal." Eliaslooked at Ibarra.
"You--you mean that you----"
"Yes, when his deadly work was about to be done, he was going to flee;I held him there; I had seen his crime! Let God be the only one whohas the right over life!"
"And yet, this time you----"
"No!" cried Elias. "I exposed the criminal to the risk he had preparedfor others; I ran the risk myself; and I did not strike him; I lefthim to be struck by the hand of God!"
Ibarra regarded the man in silence.
"You are not a peasant," he said at last. "Who are you? Have youstudied?"
"I've need of much belief in God, since I've lost faith in men,"said Elias, evading the question.
"But God cannot speak to resolve each of the countless contests ourpassions raise; it is necessary, it is just, that man should sometimesjudge his kind."
"For good, yes; not for evil. To correct and ameliorate, not todestroy; because, if man's judgments are erroneous, he has not thepower to remedy the evil he has done. But this discussion is over myhead, and I am detaining you. Do not forget what I came to entreat;save yourself for the good of your country!" And he started to go.
"And when shall I see you again?"
"Whenever you wish; whenever I can be of use to you; I am alwaysyour debtor!"
XXVIII.
THE BANQUET.
All the distinguished people of the province were united in thecarpeted and decorated booth. The alcalde was at one end of the table,Ibarra at the other. The talk was animated, even gay. The meal washalf finished when a despatch was handed to Captain Tiago. He askedpermission to read it; his face paled; then lighted up. "Senores,"he cried, quite beside himself, "His Excellency the captain-generalis to honor my house with his presence!" And he started off running,carrying his despatch and his napkin, forgetting his hat, and pursuedby exclamations and questions. The announcement of the tulisanescould not have put him to greater confusion.
"Wait a moment! When is he coming? Tell us?"
Captain Tiago was already in the distance.
"His Excellency asks the hospitality of Captain Tiago!" the guestsexclaimed, apparently forgetting that they spoke before his daughterand his future son-in-law.
"He could hardly make a better choice," said Ibarra, with dignity.
"This was spoken of yesterday," said the alcalde, "but His Excellencyhad not fully decided."
"Do you know how long he is to stay?" asked the alferez, uneasily.
"I'm not at all sure! His Excellency is fond of surprising people."
Three other despatches were brought. They were for the alcalde, thealferez, and the gobernadorcillo, and identical, announcing the comingof the governor. It was remarked that there was none for the curate.
"His Excellency arrives at four this afternoon," said the alcalde,solemnly. "We can finish our repast." It might have been Leonidassaying: "To-night we sup with Pluto!"
The conversation returned to its former course.
"I notice the absence of our great preacher," said one of the clerks,an honest, inoffensive fellow, who had not yet said a word. Thosewho knew the story of Ibarra's father looked significantly at oneanother. "Fools rush in," said the glances of some; but others,more considerate, tried to cover the error.
"He must be somewhat fatigued----"
"Somewhat!" cried the alferez. "He must be spent, as they say here,malunqueado. What a sermon!"
"Superb! Herculean!" was the opinion of the notary.
"Magnificent! Profound!" said a newspaper correspondent.
In the other booth the children were more noisy than little Filipinosare wont to be, for at table or before strangers they are usuallyrather too timid than too bold. If one of them did not eat withpropriety, his neighbor corrected him. To one a certain article wasa spoon; to others a fork or a knife; and as nobody settled theirquestions, they were in continual uproar.
Their fathers and mothers, simple peasants, looked in ravishment tosee their children eating on a white cloth, and doing it almost as wellas the curate or the alcalde. It was better to them than a banquet.
"Yes," said a young peasant woman to an old man grinding his buyo,"whatever my husband says, my Andoy shall be a priest. It is true,we are poor; but Father Mateo says Pope Sixtu was once a keeperof carabaos at Batanzas! Look at my Andoy; hasn't he a face likeSt. Vincent?" and the good mother's mouth watered at the
sight ofher son with his fork in both hands!
"God help us!" said the old man, munching his sapa. "If Andoy getsto be pope, we will go to Rome! I can walk yet! Ho! Ho!"
Another peasant came up.
"It's decided, neighbor," he said, "my son is to be a doctor."
"A doctor! Don't speak of it!" replied Petra. "There's nothinglike being a curate! He has only to make two or three turns and say'deminos pabiscum' and he gets his money."
"And isn't it work to confess?"
"Work! Think of the trouble we take to find out the affairs ofour neighbors! The curate has only to sit down, and they tell himeverything!"
"And preaching? Don't you call that work?"
"Preaching? Where is your head? To scold half a day from the pulpitwithout any one's daring to reply and be paid for it into thebargain! Look, look at Father Damaso! See how fat he gets with hisshouting and pounding!"
In truth, Father Damaso was that moment passing the children's booth inthe gait peculiar to men of his size. As he entered the other booth,he was half smiling, but so maliciously that at sight of it Ibarra,who was talking, lost the thread of his speech.
The guests were astonished to see the father, but every one exceptIbarra received him with signs of pleasure. They were at the dessert,and the champagne was sparkling in the cups.