The Social Cancer - The Original Classic Edition. Хосе Рисаль

themselves on adoring only the spirit!"

       But these musings were in turn banished from his mind as he came in sight of the little mound in Bagumbayan Field.3 This isolated knoll at the side of the Luneta now caught his attention and made him reminiscent. He thought of the man who had awakened his intellect and made him understand goodness and justice. The ideas which that man had impressed upon him were not many, to be sure, but they were not meaningless repetitions, they were convictions which had not paled in the light of the most brilliant foci of

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       progress. That man was an old priest whose words of farewell still resounded in his ears: "Do [64]not forget that if knowledge is the heritage of mankind, it is only the courageous who inherit it," he had reminded him. "I have tried to pass on to you what I got from my teachers, the sum of which I have endeavored to increase and transmit to the coming generation as far as in me lay. You will now do the same for those who come after you, and you can treble it, since you are going to rich countries." Then he had added with a smile, "They come here seeking wealth, go you to their country to seek also that other wealth which we lack! But remember that all that glitters is not gold." The old man had died on that spot.

       At these recollections the youth murmured audibly: "No, in spite of everything, the fatherland first, first the Philippines, the child of

       Spain, first the Spanish fatherland! No, that which is decreed by fate does not tarnish the honor of the fatherland, no!"

       He gave little heed to Ermita, the phenix of nipa that had rearisen from its ashes under the form of blue and white houses with red-painted roofs of corrugated iron. Nor was his attention caught by Malate, neither by the cavalry barracks with the spreading trees in front, nor by the inhabitants or their little nipa huts, pyramidal or prismatic in shape, hidden away among the banana plants and areca palms, constructed like nests by each father of a family.

       The carriage continued on its way, meeting now and then carromatas drawn by one or two ponies whose abaka harness indicated that they were from the country. The drivers would try to catch a glimpse of the occupant of the fine carriage, but would pass on without exchanging a word, without a single salute. At times a heavy cart drawn by a slow and indifferent carabao would appear on the dusty road over which beat the brilliant sunlight of the tropics. The mournful and monotonous song of the driver mounted on the back

       of the carabao would be mingled at one time with the screechings of a dry wheel on the huge axle of the heavy vehicle or at another time with [65]the dull scraping of worn-out runners on a sledge which was dragged heavily through the dust, and over the ruts in the road. In the fields and wide meadows the herds were grazing, attended ever by the white buffalo-birds which roosted peacefully on the backs of the animals while these chewed their cuds or browsed in lazy contentment upon the rich grass. In the distance ponies frisked, jumping and running about, pursued by the lively colts with long tails and abundant manes who whinnied and pawed the ground with their hard hoofs.

       Let us leave the youth dreaming or dozing, since neither the sad nor the animated poetry of the open country held his attention. For him there was no charm in the sun that gleamed upon the tops of the trees and caused the rustics, with feet burned by the hot ground in spite of their callousness, to hurry along, or that made the villager pause beneath the shade of an almond tree or a bamboo brake while he pondered upon vague and inexplicable things. While the youth's carriage sways along like a drunken thing

       on account of the inequalities in the surface of the road when passing over a bamboo bridge or going up an incline or descending a

       steep slope, let us return to Manila. [66]

       1 Now Plaza Cervantes.--TR.

       2 Now Plaza Lawton and Bagumbayan; see note, infra.-- TR.

       3 The Field of Bagumbayan, adjoining the Luneta, was the place where political prisoners were shot or garroted, and was the scene

       of the author's execution on December 30, 1906. It is situated just outside and east of the old Walled City (Manila proper), be-ing the location to which the natives who had occupied the site of Manila moved their town after having been driven back by the Spaniards--hence the name, which is a Tagalog compound meaning "new town." This place is now called Wallace Field, the name Bagumbayan being applied to the driveway which was known to the Spaniards as the Paseo de las Aguadas, or de Vidal, extending from the Luneta to the Bridge of Spain, just outside the moat that, formerly encircled the Walled City.--TR.

       [Contents] Chapter IX Local Affairs

       Ibarra had not been mistaken about the occupant of the victoria, for it was indeed Padre Damaso, and he was on his way to the house which the youth had just left.

       "Where are you going?" asked the friar of Maria Clara and Aunt Isabel, who were about to enter a silver-mounted carriage. In the midst of his preoccupation Padre Damaso stroked the maiden's cheek lightly.

       "To the convent to get my things," answered the latter.

       "Ahaa! Aha! We'll see who's stronger, we'll see," muttered the friar abstractedly, as with bowed head and slow step he turned to the stairway, leaving the two women not a little amazed.

       "He must have a sermon to preach and is memorizing it," commented Aunt Isabel. "Get in, Maria, or we'll be late."

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       Whether or not Padre Damaso was preparing a sermon we cannot say, but it is certain that some grave matter filled his mind, for he did not extend his hand to Capitan Tiago, who had almost to get down on his knees to kiss it.

       "Santiago," said the friar at once, "I have an important matter to talk to you about. Let's go into your office."

       Capitan Tiago began to feel uneasy, so much so that he did not know what to say; but he obeyed, following the heavy figure of the

       priest, who closed the door behind him.

       While they confer in secret, let us learn what Fray [67]Sibyla has been doing. The astute Dominican is not at the rectory, for very

       soon after celebrating mass he had gone to the convent of his order, situated just inside the gate of Isabel II, or of Magellan, according to what family happened to be reigning in Madrid. Without paying any attention to the rich odor of chocolate, or to the rattle of boxes and coins which came from the treasury, and scarcely acknowledging the respectful and deferential salute of the procurator-brother, he entered, passed along several corridors, and knocked at a door.

       "Come in," sighed a weak voice.

       "May God restore health to your Reverence," was the young Dominican's greeting as he entered.

       Seated in a large armchair was an aged priest, wasted and rather sallow, like the saints that Rivera painted. His eyes were sunken in their hollow sockets, over which his heavy eyebrows were almost always contracted, thus accentuating their brilliant gleam. Padre Sibyla, with his arms crossed under the venerable scapulary of St. Dominic, gazed at him feelingly, then bowed his head and waited in silence.

       "Ah," sighed the old man, "they advise an operation, an operation, Hernando, at my age! This country, O this terrible country! Take warning from my ease, Hernando!"

       Fray Sibyla raised his eyes slowly and fixed them on the sick man's face. "What has your Reverence decided to do?" he asked.

       "To die! Ah, what else can I do? I am suffering too much, but--I have made many suffer, I am paying my debt! And how are you? What has brought you here?"

       "I've come to talk about the business which you committed to my care." "Ah! What about it?"

       "Pish!" answered the young man disgustedly, as he seated himself and turned away his face with a contemptuous [68]expression,

       "They've been telling us fairy tales. Young Ibarra is a youth of discernment; he doesn't seem to be a fool, but I believe that he is a good lad."

       "You believe so?"

       "Hostilities began last night." "Already? How?"

       Fray Sibyla then recounted briefly what had taken place between Padre Damaso and Ibarra. "Besides," he said in conclusion, "the

       young man is going to marry Capitan Tiago's daughter, who was educated in the college of our Sisterhood.