"A medical student, one Basilio--"

"Of that Basilio, I'll say nothing," observed Padre Irene, raising his hands and opening them, as if to say _Dominus vobisc.u.m_. "He's too deep for me. I've never succeeded in fathoming what he wants or what he is thinking about. It's a pity that Padre Salvi isn't present to tell us something about his antecedents. I believe that I've heard that when a boy he got into trouble with the Civil Guard. His father was killed in--I don't remember what disturbance."

Simoun smiled faintly, silently, showing his sharp white teeth.

"Aha! Aha!" said his Excellency nodding. "That's the kind we have! Make a note of that name."

"But, General," objected the high official, seeing that the matter was taking a bad turn, "up to now nothing positive is known against these young men. Their position is a very just one, and we have no right to deny it on the ground of mere conjectures. My opinion is that the government, by exhibiting confidence in the people and in its own stability, should grant what is asked, then it could freely revoke the permission when it saw that its kindness was being abused--reasons and pretexts would not be wanting, we can watch them. Why cause disaffection among some young men, who later on may feel resentment, when what they ask is commanded by royal decrees?"

Padre Irene, Don Custodio, and Padre Fernandez nodded in agreement.

"But the Indians must not understand Castilian, you know," cried Padre Camorra. "They mustn't learn it, for then they'll enter into arguments with us, and the Indians must not argue, but obey and pay. They mustn't try to interpret the meaning of the laws and the books, they're so tricky and pettifogish! Just as soon as they learn Castilian they become enemies of G.o.d and of Spain. Just read the _Tandang Basio Macunat_--that's a book! It tells truths like this!" And he held up his clenched fists.

Padre Sibyla rubbed his hand over his tonsure in sign of impatience. "One word," he began in the most conciliatory tone, though fuming with irritation, "here we're not dealing with the instruction in Castilian alone. Here there is an underhand fight between the students and the University of Santo Tomas. If the students win this, our prestige will be trampled in the dirt, they will say that they've beaten us and will exult accordingly. Then, good-by to moral strength, good-by to everything! The first dike broken down, who will restrain this youth? With our fall we do no more than signal your own. After us, the government!"

"_Punales_, that's not so!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "We'll see first who has the biggest fists!"

At this point Padre Fernandez, who thus far in the discussion had merely contented himself with smiling, began to talk. All gave him their attention, for they knew him to be a thoughtful man.

"Don't take it ill of me, Padre Sibyla, if I differ from your view of the affair, but it's my peculiar fate to be almost always in opposition to my brethren. I say, then, that we ought not to be so pessimistic. The instruction in Castilian can be allowed without any risk whatever, and in order that it may not appear to be a defeat of the University, we Dominicans ought to put forth our efforts and be the first to rejoice over it--that should be our policy. To what end are we to be engaged in an everlasting struggle with the people, when after all we are the few and they are the many, when we need them and they do not need us? Wait, Padre Camorra, wait! Admit that now the people may be weak and ignorant--I also believe that--but it will not be true tomorrow or the day after. Tomorrow and the next day they will be the stronger, they will know what is good for them, and we cannot keep it from them, just as it is not possible to keep from children the knowledge of many things when they reach a certain age. I say, then, why should we not take advantage of this condition of ignorance to change our policy completely, to place it upon a basis solid and enduring--on the basis of justice, for example, instead of on the basis of ignorance? There's nothing like being just; that I've always said to my brethren, but they won't believe me. The Indian idolizes justice, like every race in its youth; he asks for punishment when he has done wrong, just as he is exasperated when he has not deserved it. Is theirs a just desire? Then grant it! Let's give them all the schools they want, until they are tired of them. Youth is lazy, and what urges them to activity is our opposition. Our bond of prestige, Padre Sibyla, is about worn out, so let's prepare another, the bond of grat.i.tude, for example. Let's not be fools, let's do as the crafty Jesuits--"

"Padre Fernandez!" Anything could be tolerated by Padre Sibyla except to propose the Jesuits to him as a model. Pale and trembling, he broke out into bitter recrimination. "A Franciscan first! Anything before a Jesuit!" He was beside himself.

"Oh, oh!"

"Eh, Padre--"

A general discussion broke out, regardless of the Captain-General. All talked at once, they yelled, they misunderstood and contradicted one another. Ben-Zayb and Padre Camorra shook their fists in each other's faces, one talking of simpletons and the other of ink-slingers, Padre Sibyla kept harping on the _Capitulum_, and Padre Fernandez on the _Summa_ of St. Thomas, until the curate of Los Banos entered to announce that breakfast was served.

His Excellency arose and so ended the discussion. "Well, gentlemen,"

he said, "we've worked like n.i.g.g.e.rs and yet we're on a vacation. Some one has said that grave matters should he considered at dessert. I'm entirely of that opinion."

"We might get indigestion," remarked the secretary, alluding to the heat of the discussion.

"Then we'll lay it aside until tomorrow."

As they rose the high official whispered to the General, "Your Excellency, the daughter of Cabesang Tales has been here again begging for the release of her sick grandfather, who was arrested in place of her father."

His Excellency looked at him with an expression of impatience and rubbed his hand across his broad forehead. "_Carambas_! Can't one be left to eat his breakfast in peace?"

"This is the third day she has come. She's a poor girl--"

"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "I've just thought of it. I have something to say to the General about that--that's what I came over for--to support that girl's pet.i.tion."

The General scratched the back of his ear and said, "Oh, go along! Have the secretary make out an order to the lieutenant of the Civil Guard for the old man's release. They sha'n't say that we're not clement and merciful."

He looked at Ben-Zayb. The journalist winked.

CHAPTER XII

PLACIDO PENITENTE

Reluctantly, and almost with tearful eyes, Placido Penitente was going along the Escolta on his way to the University of Santo Tomas. It had hardly been a week since he had come from his town, yet he had already written to his mother twice, reiterating his desire to abandon his studies and go back there to work. His mother answered that he should have patience, that at the least he must be graduated as a bachelor of arts, since it would be unwise to desert his books after four years of expense and sacrifices on both their parts.

Whence came to Penitente this aversion to study, when he had been one of the most diligent in the famous college conducted by Padre Valerio in Tanawan? There Penitente had been considered one of the best Latinists and the subtlest disputants, one who could tangle or untangle the simplest as well as the most abstruse questions. His townspeople considered him very clever, and his curate, influenced by that opinion, already cla.s.sified him as a filibuster--a sure proof that he was neither foolish nor incapable. His friends could not explain those desires for abandoning his studies and returning: he had no sweethearts, was not a gambler, hardly knew anything about _hunkian_ and rarely tried his luck at the more familiar _revesino_. He did not believe in the advice of the curates, laughed at _Tandang Basio Macunat_, had plenty of money and good clothes, yet he went to school reluctantly and looked with repugnance on his books.

On the Bridge of Spain, a bridge whose name alone came from Spain, since even its ironwork came from foreign countries, he fell in with the long procession of young men on their way to the Walled City to their respective schools. Some were dressed in the European fashion and walked rapidly, carrying books and notes, absorbed in thoughts of their lessons and essays--these were the students of the Ateneo. Those from San Juan de Letran were nearly all dressed in the Filipino costume, but were more numerous and carried fewer books. Those from the University are dressed more carefully and elegantly and saunter along carrying canes instead of books. The collegians of the Philippines are not very noisy or turbulent. They move along in a preoccupied manner, such that upon seeing them one would say that before their eyes shone no hope, no smiling future. Even though here and there the line is brightened by the attractive appearance of the schoolgirls of the _Escuela Munic.i.p.al_, [24] with their sashes across their shoulders and their books in their hands, followed by their servants, yet scarcely a laugh resounds or a joke can be heard--nothing of song or jest, at best a few heavy jokes or scuffles among the smaller boys. The older ones nearly always proceed seriously and composedly, like the German students.

Placido was proceeding along the Paseo de Magallanes toward the breach--formerly the gate--of Santo Domingo, when he suddenly felt a slap on the shoulder, which made him turn quickly in ill humor.

"h.e.l.lo, Penitente! h.e.l.lo, Penitente!"

It was his schoolmate Juanito Pelaez, the _barbero_ or pet of the professors, as big a rascal as he could be, with a roguish look and a clownish smile. The son of a Spanish mestizo--a rich merchant in one of the suburbs, who based all his hopes and joys on the boy's talent--he promised well with his roguery, and, thanks to his custom of playing tricks on every one and then hiding behind his companions, he had acquired a peculiar hump, which grew larger whenever he was laughing over his deviltry.

"What kind of time did you have, Penitente?" was his question as he again slapped him on the shoulder.

"So, so," answered Placido, rather bored. "And you?"

"Well, it was great! Just imagine--the curate of Tiani invited me to spend the vacation in his town, and I went. Old man, you know Padre Camorra, I suppose? Well, he's a liberal curate, very jolly, frank, very frank, one of those like Padre Paco. As there were pretty girls, we serenaded them all, he with his guitar and songs and I with my violin. I tell you, old man, we had a great time--there wasn't a house we didn't try!"

He whispered a few words in Placido's ear and then broke out into laughter. As the latter exhibited some surprise, he resumed: "I'll swear to it! They can't help themselves, because with a governmental order you get rid of the father, husband, or brother, and then--merry Christmas! However, we did run up against a little fool, the sweetheart, I believe, of Basilio, you know? Look, what a fool this Basilio is! To have a sweetheart who doesn't know a word of Spanish, who hasn't any money, and who has been a servant! She's as shy as she can be, but pretty. Padre Camorra one night started to club two fellows who were serenading her and I don't know how it was he didn't kill them, yet with all that she was just as shy as ever. But it'll result for her as it does with all the women, all of them!"

Juanito Pelaez laughed with a full mouth, as though he thought this a glorious thing, while Placido stared at him in disgust.

"Listen, what did the professor explain yesterday?" asked Juanito, changing the conversation.

"Yesterday there was no cla.s.s."

"Oho, and the day before yesterday?"

"Man, it was Thursday!"

"Right! What an a.s.s I am! Don't you know, Placido, that I'm getting to be a regular a.s.s? What about Wednesday?"

"Wednesday? Wait--Wednesday, it was a little wet."

"Fine! What about Tuesday, old man?"

"Tuesday was the professor's nameday and we went to entertain him with an orchestra, present him flowers and some gifts."

"Ah, _carambas!_" exclaimed Juanito, "that I should have forgotten about it! What an a.s.s I am! Listen, did he ask for me?"

Penitente shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but they gave him a list of his entertainers."