EL FILIBUSTERISMO

XXXV. THE FIESTA

CHAPTER XXXV

THE FIESTA

"Danzar sobre un volcán."

By seven in the evening the guests had begun to arrive: first, the

lesser divinities, petty government officials, clerks, and merchants,

with the most ceremonious greetings and the gravest airs at the start,

as if they were parvenus, for so much light, so many decorations,

and so much glassware had some effect. Afterwards, they began to

be more at ease, shaking their fists playfully, with pats on the

shoulders, and even familiar slaps on the back. Some, it is true,

adopted a rather disdainful air, to let it be seen that they were

accustomed to better things--of course they were! There was one goddess

who yawned, for she found everything vulgar and even remarked that

she was ravenously hungry, while another quarreled with her god,

threatening to box his ears.

Don Timoteo bowed here and bowed there, scattered his best smiles,

tightened his belt, stepped backward, turned halfway round, then

completely around, and so on again and again, until one goddess could

not refrain from remarking to her neighbor, under cover of her fan:

"My dear, how important the old man is! Doesn't he look like a

jumping-jack?"

Later came the bridal couple, escorted by Doña Victorina and the rest

of the party. Congratulations, hand-shakings, patronizing pats for the

groom: for the bride, insistent stares and anatomical observations

on the part of the men, with analyses of her gown, her toilette,

speculations as to her health and strength on the part of the women.

"Cupid and Psyche appearing on Olympus," thought Ben-Zayb,

making a mental note of the comparison to spring it at some better

opportunity. The groom had in fact the mischievous features of the god

of love, and with a little good-will his hump, which the severity of

his frock coat did not altogether conceal, could be taken for a quiver.

Don Timoteo began to feel his belt squeezing him, the corns on his

feet began to ache, his neck became tired, but still the General

had not come. The greater gods, among them Padre Irene and Padre

Salvi, had already arrived, it was true, but the chief thunderer was

still lacking. The poor man became uneasy, nervous; his heart beat

violently, but still he had to bow and smile; he sat down, he arose,

failed to hear what was said to him, did not say what he meant. In

the meantime, an amateur god made remarks to him about his chromos,

criticizing them with the statement that they spoiled the walls.

"Spoil the walls!" repeated Don Timoteo, with a smile and a desire