"What I had already feared!" he broke out finally half crying. "All is lost! Father Damaso orders that the engagement be broken. If it is not broken off, I am condemned in this life and in the next. They all tell me the same thing, even Father Sibyla! I ought to shut the doors of my house and ... I owe him more than fifty thousand pesos. I told the Fathers so, but they would take no notice of it. 'Which do you prefer to lose,' they said to me, 'fifty thousand pesos, or your life and your soul?' Alas! Ay! San Antonio! If I had known it, if I had known it!"

Maria Clara was sobbing.

"Do not cry, my daughter," he added, turning to her. "You are not like your mother. She never cried ... she never cried except when she was whimsical just before your birth.... Father Damaso tells me that a relative of his has just arrived from Spain ... and that he wants him to be your fiance."...

Maria Clara stopped up her ears.

"But, Santiago, are you out of your head?" cried Aunt Isabel. "Speak to her now of another fiance! Do you think that your daughter can change lovers as easily as she changes her dress?"

"I was thinking the same thing, Isabel. Don Crisostomo is rich.... The Spaniards only marry for love of money.... But what would you have me do? They have threatened me with excommunication. They say that I am in great peril: not only my soul, but also my body ... my body, do you hear? My body!"

"But you only give sorrow to your daughter. Are you not a friend of the Archbishop? Why don't you write him?"

"The Archbishop is also a friar. The Archbishop does only what the friars say. But, Maria, do not cry. The Governor General will come. He will want to see you and your eyes are all inflamed.... Alas! I was thinking what a happy afternoon I was going to pa.s.s.... Without this misfortune, I would be the happiest of men and all would envy me.... Calm yourself, my girl. I am more unfortunate than you and I do not cry. You can have another and better fiance, but I lose fifty thousand pesos. Ah! Virgin of Antipolo! If I could only have some luck to-night!"

Noises, detonations, the rumbling of carriages, the galloping of horses, and a band playing the Marcha Real announced the arrival of His Excellency, the Governor General of the Philippine Islands. Maria Clara ran to hide in her bedroom.... Poor girl! Gross hands were playing with her heart, ignorant of the delicacy of its fibers.

In the meantime, the house filled with people. Loud steps, commands, and the clanking of sabers and swords resounded on all sides. The afflicted maiden was half kneeling before an engraving of the Virgin, a picture representing her in that att.i.tude of painful solitude, known only to Delaroche, as if she had been surprised on returning from the sepulchre of her Son. But Maria Clara was not thinking of the grief of that Mother; she was thinking of her own. With her head resting on her breast and her hands on the floor, she looked like a lily bent by the storm. A future, cherished for years in her dreams; a future whose illusions, born in her infancy and nursed through her youth, gave form to the cells of her being--that future was now to be blotted from the mind and heart by a single word!

Maria Clara was as good and as pious a Christian as her aunt. The thought of an excommunication terrified her. The threat to destroy the peace of her father demanded that she sacrifice her love. She felt the entire strength of that affection which until now she had not known. It was like a river which glides along smoothly; its banks carpeted with fragrant flowers, its bed formed by fine sand, the wind scarcely rippling its surface, so quiet and peaceful that you would say that its waters were dead; until suddenly its channel is pent up, ragged rocks obstruct its course, and the entangled trunks of trees form a dike. Then the river roars; it rises up; its waves boil; it is lashed into foam, beats against the rocks and rushes into the abyss.

She wanted to pray, but who can pray without hope? One prays when there is hope. When there is none, we surrender ourselves to G.o.d and wail. "My G.o.d!" cried her heart, "why shouldst thou separate me thus from him I love? Why deny me the love of others? Thou dost not deny me the sun, nor the air, nor dost thou hide the heavens from my sight. Why dost thou deny me love, when it is possible to live without sun, without air, and without the heavens, but without love, never?"

"Mother, mother," she was moaning.

Aunt Isabel came to take her from her grief. Some of her girl friends had arrived and the Governor General also desired to talk with her.

"Aunt, tell them that I am ill!" begged the frightened maiden. "They wish to make me play the piano and sing."

"Your father has promised it. You are not going to go back on your father?"

Maria Clara arose, looked at her aunt, clasped her beautiful arms about her and murmured: "Oh, if I had ..."

But, without finishing the sentence, she dried her tears and began to make her toilet.

CHAPTER XIX

HIS EXCELLENCY.

"I want to speak with that young man," said His Excellency to an adjutant. "He has awakened my interest."

"They have already gone to look for him, General! But there is a young man here from Manila who insists on being introduced. We have told him that Your Excellency has no time and that you have not come to give audiences, but to see the town and the procession. But he has replied that Your Excellency always has time to dispense justice."

His Excellency turned to the Alcalde as if in doubt.

"If I am not mistaken," said the latter, making a slight bow, "it is a young man who this morning had a difficulty with Father Damaso about the sermon."

"Still another? Has this friar undertaken to disturb the province, or does he think that he is in command here? Tell the young man to come in!"

His Excellency was walking nervously from one end of the sala to the other.

In the lower part of the house, in the ante-room, were several Spaniards, mingled with army officers and officials of the town of San Diego and some of the neighboring villages. They were grouped in little circles and were conversing about one thing and another. All of the friars were there except Father Damaso, and they wanted to go in and pay their respects to His Excellency.

"His Excellency, the Governor General, begs Your Reverences to wait a moment," said the adjutant. "Walk in, young man!"

The young man from Manila entered the sala, pale and trembling.

Everybody was surprised. His Excellency must be irritated to dare to make the friars wait. Father Sibyla said: "I have nothing to say to him.... I am losing time here!"

"It's the same with me," said an Augustine. "Shall we go?"

"Would it not be better for us to find out what he thinks?" asked Father Salvi. "We would avoid a scandal ... and ... we would be able to call to his mind his duty to ... the Church."

"Your Reverences can walk in, if you wish," announced the adjutant, as he escorted out the young man, whose face was now, however, glowing with satisfaction.

Friar Sibyla entered first. Behind him came Father Salvi, Father Manuel Martin and the other priests. They all humbly saluted the Governor General, with the exception of Father Sibyla, who preserved even in his bow, an air of superiority. Father Salvi, on the contrary, almost touched the floor with his head.

"Which of Your Reverences is Father Damaso?" asked His Excellency unexpectedly, without having them sit down, or even asking about their health, and without addressing them with any of those courteous phrases which are customary with such high personages.

"Father Damaso is not among us, senor," replied Father Sibyla, rather dryly.

"Your Excellency's servant lies ill in bed," added Father Salvi meekly. "After having the pleasure of saluting you and of inquiring about the health of Your Excellency, as befits all the good servants of the King and all persons of good education, we also come in the name of the respectful servant of Your Excellency who has the misfortune...."

"Oh," interrupted the Governor General, as he turned a chair around on one leg and smiled nervously. "If all the servants of My Excellency were like His Reverence Father Damaso, I would prefer to serve My Excellency myself."

The Reverences did not know how to respond to this interruption.

"Take a seat, Your Reverences!" he added after a short pause, softening his tone a little.

Captain Tiago came in dressed in a frock coat and walking on tip-toes. He was leading Maria Clara by the hand. The young maiden was trembling when she entered, but notwithstanding she made a graceful and ceremonious bow.

"Is this your daughter?" asked the Governor General, somewhat surprised.

"And Your Excellency's, my General," replied Captain Tiago seriously. [14]

The Alcalde and the adjutants opened wide their eyes, but His Excellency did not lose his gravity. He extended his hand to the young maiden and said to her affably: "Happy are the fathers who have daughters like you, senorita. They have spoken to me about you with respect and consideration.... I have desired to see you and to thank you for your pretty deed of to-day. I am informed of all, and when I write to His Majesty's Government I will not forget your generous conduct. In the meantime, senorita, allow me in the name of His Majesty the King whom I represent here and who loves to see peace and tranquillity among his subjects, and in my own name, that of a father who also has daughters of your age, allow me to extend to you most sincere thanks and propose your name for some mark of recognition."

"Senor ..." replied Maria Clara, trembling.

His Excellency guessed what she wanted to say, and replied: "It is well enough, senorita, that you are satisfied in your own conscience with the mere esteem of your own people. The testimony of one's people is the highest reward and we ought not to ask more. But, however, I will not let pa.s.s this excellent opportunity to show you that, if justice knows how to punish, she also knows how to reward and is not always blind."

"Senor Don Juan Crisostomo awaits Your Excellency's orders," announced the adjutant in a loud voice.