"He could hardly make a better choice," said Ibarra, with dignity.

"This was spoken of yesterday," said the alcalde, "but His Excellency had 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, the alferez, and the gobernadorcillo, and identical, announcing the coming of 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 Leonidas saying: "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. Those who knew the story of Ibarra's father looked significantly at one another. "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 Filipinos are wont to be, for at table or before strangers they are usually rather too timid than too bold. If one of them did not eat with propriety, his neighbor corrected him. To one a certain article was a spoon; to others a fork or a knife; and as n.o.body settled their questions, they were in continual uproar.

Their fathers and mothers, simple peasants, looked in ravishment to see their children eating on a white cloth, and doing it almost as well as 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 keeper of carabaos at Batanzas! Look at my Andoy; hasn't he a face like St. Vincent?" and the good mother's mouth watered at the sight of her son with his fork in both hands!

"G.o.d help us!" said the old man, munching his sapa. "If Andoy gets to 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 nothing like being a curate! He has only to make two or three turns and say 'deminos pabisc.u.m' and he gets his money."

"And isn't it work to confess?"

"Work! Think of the trouble we take to find out the affairs of our neighbors! The curate has only to sit down, and they tell him everything!"

"And preaching? Don't you call that work?"

"Preaching? Where is your head? To scold half a day from the pulpit without any one's daring to reply and be paid for it into the bargain! Look, look at Father Damaso! See how fat he gets with his shouting and pounding!"

In truth, Father Damaso was that moment pa.s.sing the children's booth in the 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 except Ibarra received him with signs of pleasure. They were at the dessert, and the champagne was sparkling in the cups.

Father Damaso's smile became nervous when he saw Maria Clara sitting next Crisostomo, but, taking a chair beside the alcalde, he said in the midst of a significant silence:

"You were talking of something, senores; continue!"

"We had come to the toasts," said the alcalde. "Senor Ibarra was mentioning those who had aided him in his philanthropic enterprise, and he was speaking of the architect when your reverence----"

"Ah, well! I know nothing about architecture," interrupted Father Damaso, "but I scorn architects and the simpletons who make use of them."

"Nevertheless," said the alcalde, as Ibarra was silent, "when certain buildings are in question, like a school, for example, an expert is needed----"

"An expert!" cried the father, with sarcasm. "One needs be more stupid than the Indians, who build their own houses, not to know how to raise four walls and put a roof on them. Nothing else is needed for a school!"

Every one looked at Ibarra, but, though he grew a little pale, he pursued his conversation with Maria Clara.

"But does your reverence consider----"

"See here!" continued the Franciscan, again cutting off the alcalde. "See how one of our lay brothers, the most stupid one we have, built a hospital. He paid the workmen eight cuartos a day, and got them from other pueblos, too. Not much like these young feather-brains who ruin workmen, paying them three or four reales!"

"Does your reverence say he paid but eight cuartos? Impossible!" said the alcalde, hoping to change the course of the conversation.

"Yes, senor, and so should those do who pride themselves upon being good Spaniards. Since the opening of the Suez Ca.n.a.l, corruption has reached even here! When the Cape had to be doubled, not so many ruined men came here, and fewer went abroad to ruin themselves!"

"But Father Damaso----"

"You know the Indian; as soon as he has learned anything, he takes a t.i.tle. All these beardless youths who go to Europe----"

"But, your reverence, listen----" began the alcalde, alarmed by the harshness of these words.

"Finish as they merit," continued the priest. "The hand of G.o.d is in it; he is blind who does not see that. Already even the fathers of these reptiles receive their chastis.e.m.e.nt; they die in prison! Ah----"

He did not finish. Ibarra, livid, had been watching him. At these words he rose, gave one bound, and struck out with his strong hand. The monk, stunned by the blow, fell backward.

Surprised and terrified, not one of the spectators moved.

"Let no one come near!" said the young man in a terrible voice, drawing his slender blade, and holding the neck of the priest with his foot. "Let no one come, unless he wishes to die."

Ibarra was beside himself, his whole body trembled, his threatening eyes were big with rage. Father Damaso, regaining his senses, made an effort to rise, but Crisostomo, grasping his neck, shook him till he had brought him to his knees.

"Senor de Ibarra! Senor de Ibarra!" stammered one and another. But n.o.body, not even the alferez, risked a movement. They saw the knife glitter; they calculated Crisostomo's strength, unleashed by anger; they were paralyzed.

"All you here, you have said nothing. Now it rests with me. I avoided him; G.o.d brings him to me. Let G.o.d judge!"

Ibarra breathed with effort, but his arm of iron kept harsh hold of the Franciscan, who struggled in vain to free himself.

"My heart beats true, my hand is firm----" And he looked about him.

"I ask you first, is there among you any one who has not loved his father, who has not loved his father's memory; any one born in shame and abas.e.m.e.nt? See, hear this silence! Priest of a G.o.d of peace, thy mouth full of sanct.i.ty and religion, thy heart of corruption! Thou canst not know what it is to be a father; thou shouldst have thought of thy own! See, in all this crowd that you scorn there is not one like you! You are judged!"

The guests, believing he was going to strike, made their first movement.