The Social Cancer: A Complete English Version of Noli Me Tangere
"He's doing well to leave, that kill-joy," murmured Sinang. "He has
a face that seems to say, 'Don't laugh, for I know about your sins!'"
After making the present to his fiancée, Ibarra was so happy that
he began to play without reflection or a careful examination of the
positions of the pieces. The result was that although Capitan Basilio
was hard pressed the game became a stalemate, owing to many careless
moves on the young man's part.
"It's settled, we're at peace!" exclaimed Capitan Basilio heartily.
"Yes, we're at peace," repeated the youth, "whatever the decision of
the court may be." And the two shook hands cordially.
While all present were rejoicing over this happy termination of a
quarrel of which both parties were tired, the sudden arrival of a
sergeant and four soldiers of the Civil Guard, all armed and with
bayonets fixed, disturbed the mirth and caused fright among the women.
"Keep still, everybody!" shouted the sergeant. "Shoot any one who
moves!"
In spite of this blustering command, Ibarra arose and approached the
sergeant. "What do you want?" he asked.
"That you deliver to us at once a criminal named Elias, who was your
pilot this morning," was the threatening reply.
"A criminal--the pilot? You must be mistaken," answered Ibarra.
"No, sir, this Elias has just been accused of putting his hand on
a priest--"
"Oh, was that the pilot?"
"The very same, according to reports. You admit persons of bad
character into your fiestas, Señor Ibarra."
Ibarra looked him over from head to foot and replied with great
disdain, "I don't have to give you an account of my actions! At our
fiestas all are welcome. Had you yourself come, you would have found
a place at our table, just as did your alferez, who was with us a
couple of hours ago." With this he turned his back.
The sergeant gnawed at the ends of his mustache but, considering
himself the weaker party, ordered the soldiers to institute a search,
especially among the trees, for the pilot, a description of whom he
carried on a piece of paper.
Don Filipo said to him, "Notice that this description fits nine tenths
of the natives. Don't make any false move!"
After a time the soldiers returned with the report that they
had been unable to see either banka or man that could be called
suspicious-looking, so the sergeant muttered a few words and went
away as he had come--in the manner of the Civil Guard!
The merriment was little by little restored, amid questions and
comments.
"So that's the Elias who threw the alferez into the mudhole," said
Leon thoughtfully.
"How did that happen? How was it?" asked some of the more curious.
"They say that on a very rainy day in September the alferez met a man
who was carrying a bundle of firewood. The road was very muddy and
there was only a narrow path at the side, wide enough for but one
person. They say that the alferez, instead of reining in his pony,
put spurs to it, at the same time calling to the man to get out
of the way. It seemed that this man, on account of the heavy load
he was carrying on his shoulder, had little relish for going back
nor did he want to be swallowed up in the mud, so he continued on
his way forward. The alferez in irritation tried to knock him down,
but he snatched a piece of wood from his bundle and struck the pony
on the head with such great force that it fell, throwing its rider
into the mud. They also say that the man went on his way tranquilly
without taking any notice of the five bullets that were fired after
him by the alferez, who was blind with mud and rage. As the man was
entirely unknown to him it was supposed that he might be the famous
Elias who came to the province several months ago, having come from
no one knows where. He has given the Civil Guard cause to know him
in several towns for similar actions."
"Then he's a tulisan?" asked Victoria shuddering.
"I don't think so, for they say that he fought against some tulisanes
one day when they were robbing a house."
"He hasn't the look of a criminal," commented Sinang.
"No, but he looks very sad. I didn't see him smile the whole morning,"
added Maria Clara thoughtfully.
So the afternoon passed away and the hour for returning to the
town came. Under the last rays of the setting sun they left
the woods, passing in silence by the mysterious tomb of Ibarra's
ancestors. Afterwards, the merry talk was resumed in a lively manner,
full of warmth, beneath those branches so little accustomed to hear
so many voices. The trees seemed sad, while the vines swung back and
forth as if to say, "Farewell, youth! Farewell, dream of a day!"
Now in the light of the great red torches of bamboo and with the
sound of the guitars let us leave them on the road to the town. The
groups grow smaller, the lights are extinguished, the songs die away,
and the guitar becomes silent as they approach the abodes of men. Put
on the mask now that you are once more amongst your kind!
CHAPTER XXV
In the House of the Sage
On the morning of the following day, Ibarra, after visiting his lands,
made his way to the home of old Tasio. Complete stillness reigned in
the garden, for even the swallows circling about the eaves scarcely
made any noise. Moss grew on the old wall, over which a kind of ivy
clambered to form borders around the windows. The little house seemed
to be the abode of silence.
Ibarra hitched his horse carefully to a post and walking almost on
tiptoe crossed the clean and well-kept garden to the stairway, which
he ascended, and as the door was open, he entered. The first sight that
met his gaze was the old man bent over a book in which he seemed to be
writing. On the walls were collections of insects and plants arranged
among maps and stands filled with books and manuscripts. The old man
was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice the presence of the
youth until the latter, not wishing to disturb him, tried to retire.
"Ah, you here?" he asked, gazing at Ibarra with a strange
expression. "Excuse me," answered the youth, "I see that you're
very busy--"
"True, I was writing a little, but it's not urgent, and I want to
rest. Can I do anything for you?"
"A great deal," answered Ibarra, drawing nearer, "but--"
A glance at the book on the table caused him to exclaim in surprise,
"What, are you given to deciphering hieroglyphics?"
"No," replied the old man, as he offered his visitor a chair. "I don't
understand Egyptian or Coptic either, but I know something about the
system of writing, so I write in hieroglyphics."
"You write in hieroglyphics! Why?" exclaimed the youth, doubting what
he saw and heard.
"So that I cannot be read now."
Ibarra gazed at him fixedly, wondering to himself if the old man were
not indeed crazy. He examined the book rapidly to learn if he was
telling the truth and saw neatly drawn figures of animals, circles,
semicircles, flowers, feet, hands, arms, and such things.
"But why do you write if you don't want to be read?"
"Because I'm not writing for this generation, but for other ages. If
this generation could read, it would burn my books, the labor of
my whole life. But the generation that deciphers these characters
will be an intelligent generation, it will understand and say,
'Not all were asleep in the night of our ancestors!' The mystery of
these curious characters will save my work from the ignorance of men,
just as the mystery of strange rites has saved many truths from the
destructive priestly classes."
"In what language do you write?" asked Ibarra after a pause.
"In our own, Tagalog."
"Are the hieroglyphical signs suitable?"
"If it were not for the difficulty of drawing them, which takes time
and patience, I would almost say that they are more suitable than the
Latin alphabet. The ancient Egyptian had our vowels; our _o_, which
is only final and is not like that of the Spanish, which is a vowel
between _o_ and _u_. Like us, the Egyptians lacked the true sound of
_e_, and in their language are found our _ha_ and _kha_, which we
do not have in the Latin alphabet such as is used in Spanish. For
example, in this word _mukha_," he went on, pointing to the book,
"I transcribe the syllable _ha_ more correctly with the figure of
a fish than with the Latin _h_, which in Europe is pronounced in
different ways. For a weaker aspirate, as for example in this word
_haín_, where the _h_ has less force, I avail myself of this lion's
head or of these three lotus flowers, according to the quantity of
the vowel. Besides, I have the nasal sound which does not exist in
the Latin-Spanish alphabet. I repeat that if it were not for the
difficulty of drawing them exactly, these hieroglyphics could almost
be adopted, but this same difficulty obliges me to be concise and
not say more than what is exact and necessary. Moreover, this work
keeps me company when my guests from China and Japan go away."
"Your guests from China and Japan?"
"Don't you hear them? My guests are the swallows. This year one of
them is missing--some bad boy in China or Japan must have caught it."
"How do you know that they come from those countries?"
"Easily enough! Several years ago, before they left I tied to
the foot of each one a slip of paper with the name 'Philippines'
in English on it, supposing that they must not travel very far and
because English is understood nearly everywhere. For years my slips
brought no reply, so that at last I had it written in Chinese and here
in the following November they have returned with other notes which
I have had deciphered. One is written in Chinese and is a greeting
from the banks of the Hoang-Ho and the other, as the Chinaman whom
I consulted supposes, must be in Japanese. But I'm taking your time
with these things and haven't asked you what I can do for you."
"I've come to speak to you about a matter of importance," said the
youth. "Yesterday afternoon--"
"Have they caught that poor fellow?"
"You mean Elias? How did you know about him?"
"I saw the Muse of the Civil Guard!"
"The Muse of the Civil Guard? Who is she?"
"The alferez's woman, whom you didn't invite to your picnic. Yesterday
morning the incident of the cayman became known through the town. The
Muse of the Civil Guard is as astute as she is malignant and she
guessed that the pilot must be the bold person who threw her husband
into the mudhole and who assaulted Padre Damaso. As she reads all the
reports that her husband is to receive, scarcely had he got back home,
drunk and not knowing what he was doing, when to revenge herself on
you she sent the sergeant with the soldiers to disturb the merriment
of your picnic. Be careful! Eve was a good woman, sprung from the
hands of God--they say that Doña Consolacion is evil and it's not
known whose hands she came from! In order to be good, a woman needs
to have been, at least sometime, either a maid or a mother."
Ibarra smiled slightly and replied by taking some documents from his
pocketbook. "My dead father used to consult you in some things and
I recall that he had only to congratulate himself on following your
advice. I have on hand a little enterprise, the success of which
I must assure." Here he explained briefly his plan for the school,
which he had offered to his fiancée, spreading out in view of the
astonished Sage some plans which had been prepared in Manila.
"I would like to have you advise me as to what persons in the
town I must first win over in order to assure the success of the
undertaking. You know the inhabitants well, while I have just arrived
and am almost a stranger in my own country."
Old Tasio examined the plans before him with tear-dimmed eyes. "What
you are going to do has been my dream, the dream of a poor lunatic!" he