The Reign of Greed Part 37

Another fit of coughing on the part of the poor silversmith prevented further conversation, so the workmen and apprentices retired to their homes, carrying with them hammers and saws, and other implements, more or less cutting, more or less bruising, disposed to sell their lives dearly. Placido and the pyrotechnician went out again.

"Prudence, prudence!" cautioned the silversmith in a tearful voice.

"You'll take care of my widow and orphans!" begged the credulous simpleton in a still more tearful voice, for he already saw himself riddled with bullets and buried.

That night the guards at the city gates were replaced with Peninsular artillerymen, and on the following morning as the sun rose, Ben-Zayb, who had ventured to take a morning stroll to examine the condition of the fortifications, found on the glacis near the Luneta the corpse of a native girl, half-naked and abandoned. Ben-Zayb was horrified, but after touching it with his cane and gazing toward the gates proceeded on his way, musing over a sentimental tale he might base upon the incident.

However, no allusion to it appeared in the newspapers on the following days, engrossed as they were with the falls and slippings caused by banana-peels. In the dearth of news Ben-Zayb had to comment at length on a cyclone that had destroyed in America whole towns, causing the death of more than two thousand persons. Among other beautiful things he said:

"_The sentiment of charity_, MORE PREVALENT IN CATHOLIC COUNTRIES THAN IN OTHERS, and the thought of Him who, influenced by that same feeling, sacrificed himself for _humanity, moves (sic)_ us to compa.s.sion over the misfortunes of our kind and to render thanks that _in this country_, so scourged by cyclones, there are not enacted scenes so desolating as that which the inhabitants of the United States mus have witnessed!"

_Horatius_ did not miss the opportunity, and, also without mentioning the dead, or the murdered native girl, or the a.s.saults, answered him in his _Pirotecnia_:

"After such great charity and such great humanity, Fray Ibanez--I mean, Ben-Zayb--brings himself to pray for the Philippines.

But he is understood.

Because he is not Catholic, and the sentiment of charity is most prevalent," etc. [62]

CHAPTER XXIX

EXIT CAPITAN TIAGO

Talis vita, finis ita

Capitan Tiago had a good end--that is, a quite exceptional funeral. True it is that the curate of the parish had ventured the observation to Padre Irene that Capitan Tiago had died without confession, but the good priest, smiling sardonically, had rubbed the tip of his nose and answered:

"Why say that to me? If we had to deny the obsequies to all who die without confession, we should forget the _De profundis_! These restrictions, as you well know, are enforced when the impenitent is also insolvent. But Capitan Tiago--out on you! You've buried infidel Chinamen, and with a requiem ma.s.s!"

Capitan Tiago had named Padre Irene as his executor and willed his property in part to St. Clara, part to the Pope, to the Archbishop, the religious corporations, leaving twenty pesos for the matriculation of poor students. This last clause had been dictated at the suggestion of Padre Irene, in his capacity as protector of studious youths. Capitan Tiago had annulled a legacy of twenty-five pesos that he had left to Basilio, in view of the ungrateful conduct of the boy during the last few days, but Padre Irene had restored it and announced that he would take it upon his own purse and conscience.

In the dead man's house, where were a.s.sembled on the following day many old friends and acquaintances, considerable comment was indulged in over a miracle. It was reported that, at the very moment when he was dying, the soul of Capitan Tiago had appeared to the nuns surrounded by a brilliant light. G.o.d had saved him, thanks to the pious legacies, and to the numerous ma.s.ses he had paid for. The story was commented upon, it was recounted vividly, it took on particulars, and was doubted by no one. The appearance of Capitan Tiago was minutely described--of course the frock coat, the cheek bulged out by the quid of buyo, without omitting the game-c.o.c.k and the opium-pipe. The senior sacristan, who was present, gravely affirmed these facts with his head and reflected that, after death, he would appear with his cup of white _taju_, for without that refres.h.i.+ng breakfast he could not comprehend happiness either on earth or in heaven.

On this subject, because of their inability to discuss the events of the preceding day and because there were gamblers present, many strange speculations were developed. They made conjectures as to whether Capitan Tiago would invite St. Peter to a _soltada_, whether they would place bets, whether the game-c.o.c.ks were immortal, whether invulnerable, and in this case who would be the referee, who would win, and so on: discussions quite to the taste of those who found sciences, theories, and systems, based on a text which they esteem infallible, revealed or dogmatic. Moreover, there were cited pa.s.sages from novenas, books of miracles, sayings of the curates, descriptions of heaven, and other embroidery. Don Primitivo, the philosopher, was in his glory quoting opinions of the theologians.

"Because no one can lose," he stated with great authority. "To lose would cause hard feelings and in heaven there can't be any hard feelings."

"But some one has to win," rejoined the gambler Aristorenas. "The fun lies in winning!"

"Well, both win, that's easy!"

This idea of both winning could not be admitted by Aristorenas, for he had pa.s.sed his life in the c.o.c.kpit and had always seen one c.o.c.k lose and the other win--at best, there was a tie. Vainly Don Primitivo argued in Latin. Aristorenas shook his head, and that too when Don Primitivo's Latin was easy to understand, for he talked of _an gallus talisainus, acuto tari armatus, an gallus beati Petri bulikus sasabungus sit_, [63] and so on, until at length he decided to resort to the argument which many use to convince and silence their opponents.

"You're going to be d.a.m.ned, friend Martin, you're falling into heresy! _Cave ne cadas!_ I'm not going to play monte with you any more, and we'll not set up a bank together. You deny the omnipotence of G.o.d, _peccatum mortale!_ You deny the existence of the Holy Trinity-- three are one and one is three! Take care! You indirectly deny that two natures, two understandings, and two wills can have only one memory! Be careful! _Quic.u.mque non crederit anathema sit!_"

Martin Aristorenas shrank away pale and trembling, while Quiroga, who had listened with great attention to the argument, with marked deference offered the philosopher a magnificent cigar, at the same time asking in his caressing voice: "Surely, one can make a contract for a c.o.c.kpit with Kilisto, [64] ha? When I die, I'll be the contractor, ha?"

Among the others, they talked more of the deceased; at least they discussed what kind of clothing to put on him. Capitan Tinong proposed a Franciscan habit--and fortunately, he had one, old, threadbare, and patched, a precious object which, according to the friar who gave it to him as alms in exchange for thirty-six pesos, would preserve the corpse from the flames of h.e.l.l and which reckoned in its support various pious anecdotes taken from the books distributed by the curates. Although he held this relic in great esteem, Capitan Tinong was disposed to part with it for the sake of his intimate friend, whom he had not been able to visit during his illness. But a tailor objected, with good reason, that since the nuns had seen Capitan Tiago ascending to heaven in a frock coat, in a frock coat he should be dressed here on earth, nor was there any necessity for preservatives and fire-proof garments. The deceased had attended b.a.l.l.s and fiestas in a frock coat, and nothing else would be expected of him in the skies--and, wonderful to relate, the tailor accidentally happened to have one ready, which he would part with for thirty-two pesos, four cheaper than the Franciscan habit, because he didn't want to make any profit on Capitan Tiago, who had been his customer in life and would now be his patron in heaven. But Padre Irene, trustee and executor, rejected both proposals and ordered that the Capitan be dressed in one of his old suits of clothes, remarking with holy unction that G.o.d paid no attention to clothing.

The obsequies were, therefore, of the very first cla.s.s. There were responsories in the house, and in the street three friars officiated, as though one were not sufficient for such a great soul. All the rites and ceremonies possible were performed, and it is reported that there were even _extras_, as in the benefits for actors. It was indeed a delight: loads of incense were burned, there were plenty of Latin chants, large quant.i.ties of holy water were expended, and Padre Irene, out of regard for his old friend, sang the _Dies Irae_ in a falsetto voice from the choir, while the neighbors suffered real headaches from so much knell-ringing.

Dona Patrocinio, the ancient rival of Capitan Tiago in religiosity, actually wanted to die on the next day, so that she might order even more sumptuous obsequies. The pious old lady could not bear the thought that he, whom she had long considered vanquished forever, should in dying come forward again with so much pomp. Yes, she desired to die, and it seemed that she could hear the exclamations of the people at the funeral: "This indeed is what you call a funeral! This indeed is to know how to die, Dona Patrocinio!"

CHAPTER x.x.x

JULI

The death of Capitan Tiago and Basilio's imprisonment were soon reported in the province, and to the honor of the simple inhabitants of San Diego, let it be recorded that the latter was the incident more regretted and almost the only one discussed. As was to be expected, the report took on different forms, sad and startling details were given, what could not be understood was explained, the gaps being filled by conjectures, which soon pa.s.sed for accomplished facts, and the phantoms thus created terrified their own creators.

In the town of Tiani it was reported that at least, at the very least, the young man was going to be deported and would very probably be murdered on the journey. The timorous and pessimistic were not satisfied with this but even talked about executions and courts-martial--January was a fatal month; in January the Cavite affair had occurred, and _they_ [65] even though curates, had been garroted, so a poor Basilio without protectors or friends--

"I told him so!" sighed the Justice of the Peace, as if he had at some time given advice to Basilio. "I told him so."

"It was to be expected," commented Sister Penchang. "He would go into the church and when he saw that the holy water was somewhat dirty he wouldn't cross himself with it. He talked about germs and disease, _aba_, it's the chastis.e.m.e.nt of G.o.d! He deserved it, and he got it! As though the holy water could transmit diseases! Quite the contrary, _aba!_"

She then related how she had cured herself of indigestion by moistening her stomach with holy water, at the same time reciting the _Sanctus Deus_, and she recommended the remedy to those present when they should suffer from dysentery, or an epidemic occurred, only that then they must pray in Spanish:

Santo Dios, Santo fuerte, Santo inmortal, Libranos, Senor, de la peste Y de todo mal! [66]

"It's an infallible remedy, but you must apply the holy water to the part affected," she concluded.

But there were many persons who did not believe in these things, nor did they attribute Basilio's imprisonment to the chastis.e.m.e.nt of G.o.d. Nor did they take any stock in insurrections and pasquinades, knowing the prudent and ultra-pacific character of the boy, but preferred to ascribe it to revenge on the part of the friars, because of his having rescued from servitude Juli, the daughter of a tulisan who was the mortal enemy of a certain powerful corporation. As they had quite a poor idea of the morality of that same corporation and could recall cases of petty revenge, their conjecture was believed to have more probability and justification.

"What a good thing I did when I drove her from my house!" said Sister Penchang. "I don't want to have any trouble with the friars, so I urged her to find the money."

The truth was, however, that she regretted Juli's liberty, for Juli prayed and fasted for her, and if she had stayed a longer time, would also have done penance. Why, if the curates pray for us and Christ died for our sins, couldn't Juli do the same for Sister Penchang?

When the news reached the hut where the poor Juli and her grandfather lived, the girl had to have it repeated to her. She stared at Sister Bali, who was telling it, as though without comprehension, without ability to collect her thoughts. Her ears buzzed, she felt a sinking at the heart and had a vague presentiment that this event would have a disastrous influence on her own future. Yet she tried to seize upon a ray of hope, she smiled, thinking that Sister Bali was joking with her, a rather strong joke, to be sure, but she forgave her beforehand if she would acknowledge that it was such. But Sister Bali made a cross with one of her thumbs and a forefinger, and kissed it, to prove that she was telling the truth. Then the smile faded forever from the girl's lips, she turned pale, frightfully pale, she felt her strength leave her and for the first time in her life she lost consciousness, falling into a swoon.

When by dint of blows, pinches, dashes of water, crosses, and the application of sacred palms, the girl recovered and remembered the situation, silent tears sprang from her eyes, drop by drop, without sobs, without laments, without complaints! She thought about Basilio, who had had no other protector than Capitan Tiago, and who now, with the Capitan dead, was left completely unprotected and in prison. In the Philippines it is a well-known fact that patrons are needed for everything, from the time one is christened until one dies, in order to get justice, to secure a pa.s.sport, or to develop an industry. As it was said that his imprisonment was due to revenge on account of herself and her father, the girl's sorrow turned to desperation. Now it was her duty to liberate him, as he had done in rescuing her from servitude, and the inner voice which suggested the idea offered to her imagination a horrible means.

"Padre Camorra, the curate," whispered the voice. Juli gnawed at her lips and became lost in gloomy meditation.