The Reign of Greed
speaking to two or three more groups, approached a carriage and seemed
to be talking vigorously with some person inside. Camaroncocido took a
few steps forward and without surprise thought that he recognized the
jeweler Simoun, while his sharp ears caught this short dialogue.
“The signal will be a gunshot!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t worry—it’s the General who is ordering it, but be careful about
saying so. If you follow my instructions, you’ll get a promotion.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, be ready!”
The voice ceased and a second later the carriage drove away. In spite
of his indifference Camaroncocido could not but mutter, “Something’s
afoot—hands on pockets!”
But feeling his own to be empty, he again shrugged his shoulders. What
did it matter to him, even though the heavens should fall?
So he continued his pacing about. On passing near two persons engaged
in conversation, he caught what one of them, who had rosaries and
scapularies around his neck, was saying in Tagalog: “The friars are
more powerful than the General, don’t be a fool! He’ll go away and
they’ll stay here. So, if we do well, we’ll get rich. The signal is a
gunshot.”
“Hold hard, hold hard,” murmured Camaroncocido, tightening his fingers.
“On that side the General, on this Padre Salvi. Poor country! But what
is it to me?”
Again shrugging his shoulders and expectorating at the same time, two
actions that with him were indications of supreme indifference, he
continued his observations.
Meanwhile, the carriages were arriving in dizzy streams, stopping
directly before the door to set down the members of the select society.
Although the weather was scarcely even cool, the ladies sported
magnificent shawls, silk neckerchiefs, and even light cloaks. Among the
escorts, some who were in frock coats with white ties wore overcoats,
while others carried them on their arms to display the rich silk
linings.
In a group of spectators, Tadeo, he who was always taken ill the moment
the professor appeared, was accompanied by a fellow townsman of his,
the novice whom we saw suffer evil consequences from reading wrongly
the Cartesian principle. This novice was very inquisitive and addicted
to tiresome questions, and Tadeo was taking advantage of his
ingenuousness and inexperience to relate to him the most stupendous
lies. Every Spaniard that spoke to him, whether clerkling or underling,
was presented as a leading merchant, a marquis, or a count, while on
the other hand any one who passed him by was a greenhorn, a petty
official, a nobody! When pedestrians failed him in keeping up the
novice’s astonishment, he resorted to the resplendent carriages that
came up. Tadeo would bow politely, wave his hand in a friendly manner,
and call out a familiar greeting.
“Who’s he?”
“Bah!” was the negligent reply. “The Civil Governor, the Vice-Governor,
Judge ——, Señora ——, all friends of mine!”
The novice marveled and listened in fascination, taking care to keep on
the left. Tadeo the friend of judges and governors!
Tadeo named all the persons who arrived, when he did not know them
inventing titles, biographies, and interesting sketches.
“You see that tall gentleman with dark whiskers, somewhat squint-eyed,
dressed in black—he’s Judge A ——, an intimate friend of the wife of
Colonel B ——. One day if it hadn’t been for me they would have come to
blows. Hello, here comes that Colonel! What if they should fight?”
The novice held his breath, but the colonel and the judge shook hands
cordially, the soldier, an old bachelor, inquiring about the health of
the judge’s family.
“Ah, thank heaven!” breathed Tadeo. “I’m the one who made them
friends.”
“What if they should invite us to go in?” asked the novice timidly.
“Get out, boy! I never accept favors!” retorted Tadeo majestically. “I
confer them, but disinterestedly.”
The novice bit his lip and felt smaller than ever, while he placed a
respectful distance between himself and his fellow townsman.
Tadeo resumed: “That is the musician H——; that one, the lawyer J——, who
delivered as his own a speech printed in all the books and was
congratulated and admired for it; Doctor K——, that man just getting out
of a hansom, is a specialist in diseases of children, so he’s called
Herod; that’s the banker L——, who can talk only of his money and his
hoards; the poet M——, who is always dealing with the stars and the
beyond. There goes the beautiful wife of N——, whom Padre Q——is
accustomed to meet when he calls upon the absent husband; the Jewish
merchant P——, who came to the islands with a thousand pesos and is now
a millionaire. That fellow with the long beard is the physician R——,
who has become rich by making invalids more than by curing them.”
“Making invalids?”
“Yes, boy, in the examination of the conscripts. Attention! That finely
dressed gentleman is not a physician but a homeopathist sui generis—he
professes completely the similis similibus. The young cavalry captain
with him is his chosen disciple. That man in a light suit with his hat
tilted back is the government clerk whose maxim is never to be polite
and who rages like a demon when he sees a hat on any one else’s
head—they say that he does it to ruin the German hatters. The man just
arriving with his family is the wealthy merchant C——, who has an income
of over a hundred thousand pesos. But what would you say if I should
tell you that he still owes me four pesos, five reales, and twelve
cuartos? But who would collect from a rich man like him?”
“That gentleman in debt to you?”
“Sure! One day I got him out of a bad fix. It was on a Friday at
half-past six in the morning, I still remember, because I hadn’t
breakfasted. That lady who is followed by a duenna is the celebrated
Pepay, the dancing girl, but she doesn’t dance any more now that a very
Catholic gentleman and a great friend of mine has—forbidden it. There’s
the death’s-head Z——, who’s surely following her to get her to dance
again. He’s a good fellow, and a great friend of mine, but has one
defect—he’s a Chinese mestizo and yet calls himself a Peninsular
Spaniard. Sssh! Look at Ben-Zayb, him with the face of a friar, who’s
carrying a pencil and a roll of paper in his hand. He’s the great
writer, Ben-Zayb, a good friend of mine—he has talent!”
“You don’t say! And that little man with white whiskers?”
“He’s the official who has appointed his daughters, those three little
girls, assistants in his department, so as to get their names on the
pay-roll. He’s a clever man, very clever! When he makes a mistake he
blames it on somebody else, he buys things and pays for them out of the
treasury. He’s clever, very, very clever!”
Tadeo was about to say more, but suddenly checked himself.
“And that gentleman who has a fierce air and gazes at everybody over
his shoulders?” inquired the novice, pointing to a man who nodded
haughtily.
But Tadeo did not answer. He was craning his neck to see Paulita Gomez,
who was approaching with a friend, Doña Victorina, and Juanito Pelaez.
The latter had presented her with a box and was more humped than ever.
Carriage after carriage drove up; the actors and actresses arrived and
entered by a separate door, followed by their friends and admirers.
After Paulita had gone in, Tadeo resumed: “Those are the nieces of the
rich Captain D——, those coming up in a landau; you see how pretty and
healthy they are? Well, in a few years they’ll be dead or crazy.
Captain D—— is opposed to their marrying, and the insanity of the uncle
is appearing in the nieces. That’s the Señorita E——, the rich heiress
whom the world and the conventos are disputing over. Hello, I know that
fellow! It’s Padre Irene, in disguise, with a false mustache. I
recognize him by his nose. And he was so greatly opposed to this!”
The scandalized novice watched a neatly cut coat disappear behind a
group of ladies.
“The Three Fates!” went on Tadeo, watching the arrival of three
withered, bony, hollow-eyed, wide-mouthed, and shabbily dressed women.
“They’re called—”
“Atropos?” ventured the novice, who wished to show that he also knew
somebody, at least in mythology.
“No, boy, they’re called the Weary Waiters—old, censorious, and dull.
They pretend to hate everybody—men, women, and children. But look how
the Lord always places beside the evil a remedy, only that sometimes it
comes late. There behind the Fates, the frights of the city, come those
three girls, the pride of their friends, among whom I count myself.
That thin young man with goggle-eyes, somewhat stooped, who is wildly
gesticulating because he can’t get tickets, is the chemist S——, author
of many essays and scientific treatises, some of which are notable and
have captured prizes. The Spaniards say of him, ‘There’s some hope for
him, some hope for him.’ The fellow who is soothing him with his
Voltairian smile is the poet T——, a young man of talent, a great friend
of mine, and, for the very reason that he has talent, he has thrown
away his pen. That fellow who is trying to get in with the actors by
the other door is the young physician U——, who has effected some
remarkable cures—it’s also said of him that he promises well. He’s not
such a scoundrel as Pelaez but he’s cleverer and slyer still. I believe
that he’d shake dice with death and win.”
“And that brown gentleman with a mustache like hog-bristles?”
“Ah, that’s the merchant F——, who forges everything, even his baptismal
certificate. He wants to be a Spanish mestizo at any cost, and is
making heroic efforts to forget his native language.”
“But his daughters are very white.”
“Yes, that’s the reason rice has gone up in price, and yet they eat
nothing but bread.”
The novice did not understand the connection between the price of rice
and the whiteness of those girls, but he held his peace.
“There goes the fellow that’s engaged to one of them, that thin brown
youth who is following them with a lingering movement and speaking with
a protecting air to the three friends who are laughing at him. He’s a
martyr to his beliefs, to his consistency.”
The novice was filled with admiration and respect for the young man.
“He has the look of a fool, and he is one,” continued Tadeo. “He was
born in San Pedro Makati and has inflicted many privations upon
himself. He scarcely ever bathes or eats pork, because, according to
him, the Spaniards don’t do those things, and for the same reason he
doesn’t eat rice and dried fish, although he may be watering at the
mouth and dying of hunger. Anything that comes from Europe, rotten or
preserved, he considers divine—a month ago Basilio cured him of a
severe attack of gastritis, for he had eaten a jar of mustard to prove
that he’s a European.”
At that moment the orchestra struck up a waltz.
“You see that gentleman—that hypochondriac who goes along turning his
head from side to side, seeking salutes? That’s the celebrated governor
of Pangasinan, a good man who loses his appetite whenever any Indian
fails to salute him. He would have died if he hadn’t issued the
proclamation about salutes to which he owes his celebrity. Poor fellow,
it’s only been three days since he came from the province and look how
thin he has become! Oh, here’s the great man, the illustrious—open your
eyes!”
“Who? That man with knitted brows?”
“Yes, that’s Don Custodio, the liberal, Don Custodio. His brows are
knit because he’s meditating over some important project. If the ideas
he has in his head were carried out, this would be a different world!
Ah, here comes Makaraig, your housemate.”
It was in fact Makaraig, with Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani. Upon
seeing them, Tadeo advanced and spoke to them.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Makaraig asked him.
“We haven’t been able to get tickets.”