CHAPTER XXXV
THE CATASTROPHE.
There in the dining-room Captain Tiago, Linares, and Aunt Isabel were
eating supper. In the sala the rattling of plate and tableware was
heard. Maria Clara had said that she did not care to eat and had seated
herself at the piano. By her side was jolly Sinang, who murmured little
secrets in Maria's ear, while Father Salví uneasily paced the sala.
It was not because the convalescent had no appetite that she was
not eating. It was because she was awaiting the arrival of a certain
person and had taken advantage of the moment in which her Argus could
not be present, the hour when Linares ate.
"You will see how that ghost will stay till eight o'clock," murmured
Sinang, pointing to the curate. "At eight o'clock he ought to
come. This priest is as much in love as Linares."
Maria Clara looked at her friend, frightened. The latter, without
noticing her expression, continued her terrible gossip:
"Ah! Now I know why he doesn't go, in spite of all my hints. He
doesn't want to burn the lamps in the convent. Don't you see? Ever
since you fell ill, he has had the two lights which he used to burn,
put out. But look at his eyes and his face!"
Just at that moment the clock in the house struck eight. The curate
trembled and went and sat down in a corner of the room.
"He is coming," said Sinang, pinching Maria Clara. "Do you hear?"
The bell in the church tolled eight and all arose to pray. Father
Salví, with a weak and trembling voice, led, but, as each one had
his own thoughts, nobody paid any attention to him.
The prayer had scarcely ended, when Ibarra presented himself. The young
man was wearing mourning, not only in his dress, but in his face. In
fact, it was so evident that Maria Clara, on seeing him, arose and
took a step toward him as if to ask what ailed him, but at the same
instant a discharge of musketry was heard. Ibarra stopped, his eyes
rolled and he was unable to speak. The curate hid himself behind a
pillar. More shooting and more noise was heard in the direction of the
convent, followed by cries and the sound of people running. Captain
Tiago, Aunt Isabel and Linares entered the room, hurriedly crying
"tulisan! tulisan!" Andeng followed them, brandishing a spit and ran
toward her foster sister.
Aunt Isabel fell on her knees and prayed the Kyrie eleison. Captain
Tiago, pale and trembling, carried a chicken's liver on his fork, and,
in tears, offered it to the Virgin of Antipolo. Linares had his mouth
full and was armed with a spoon. Sinang and Maria Clara embraced each
other. The only person who did not move was Ibarra. He stood as if
petrified, his face indescribably pale.
The cries and blows continued, the windows were shut with a bang,
a whistle was heard, and occasionally a shot.
"Christe eleison! Santiago, fasten the windows," groaned Aunt Isabel.
"Fifty great bombs and a thanksgiving mass," replied Captain
Tiago. "Ora pro nobis!"
After a time, things quieted down and there was a terrible silence. The
voice of the alferez was distinguished, as he came running in, and
crying: "Father curate! Father Salví! Come!"
"Misere! The alferez is asking for confession!" cried Aunt Isabel.
"Is he wounded?" asked Linares at last. "Ah!"
"Come, Father Salví! There is nothing to fear now," continued the
alferez, shouting.
Father Salví, pale, and decided at last, came out of his hiding-place
and went downstairs.
"The tulisanes have killed the alferez!" said Aunt Isabel.
"Maria Clara, Sinang, go to your room! Fasten the door! Kyrie eleison!"
Ibarra also went toward the stairs, in spite of Aunt Isabel, who was
saying: "Don't go out! You haven't confessed yet. Don't go out!"
The good old woman had been a great friend of Ibarra's mother.
But Ibarra left the house. It seemed to him that all about him was
revolving through the air, that even the ground was gone from under his
feet. His ears buzzed. His legs moved heavily and irregularly. Waves
of blood, light and darkness, succeeded one another on the retina of
his eye.
Despite the fact that the moon was shining brightly in the heavens, the
young man stumbled on every stone in the solitary and deserted street.
Near the cuartel he saw some soldiers with their bayonets fixed,
talking excitedly. He passed by unseen.
In the tribunal, blows, cries, wails, and curses were heard. The
alferez's voice drowned all the others.
"Put him in the stocks! Put handcuffs on that fellow! Two shots for
whoever moves! Sergeant, you will mount your guard! Let no one pass,
not even God! Corporal, let no one sleep!"
Ibarra hastened his steps toward his house. His servants were uneasily
awaiting him.
"Saddle the best horse and go to bed!" said he to them.
He entered his laboratory and hurriedly began to get his travelling
bag ready. He opened an iron box, took out all the money which he
found there and put it in a bag. He gathered his jewels together,
took down a picture of Maria Clara which was hanging upon the wall,
and, arming himself with a dirk and two revolvers, he turned to the
cupboard where he had some tools.
At that instant, three blows, loud and strong, sounded on the door.
"Who's there?" asked Ibarra, in a doleful voice.
"Open in the name of the King! Open the door at once, or we will
knock it down!" replied an imperious Spanish voice.
Ibarra looked toward the window. His eyes flashed and he cocked his
revolver. But changing his mind, he left the arms and went to open
the door at the same moment that the servants came up.
Three Guards seized him instantly.
"You are made a prisoner in the name of the King!" said the sergeant.
"What for?"
"They will tell you later. We are prohibited from saying a word."
The young man reflected a moment and not wishing, perhaps, the soldiers
to discover his preparations for flight, he took his hat and said:
"I am at your disposal. I suppose it will be only for a short time."
"If you promise not to escape, we will not handcuff you. The alferez
grants this favor, but if you flee----"
Ibarra followed, leaving the servants in consternation.
In the meantime, what had become of Elias?
On leaving Crisostomo's house, like a madman, he ran about without
knowing where. He crossed fields, and in violent agitation arrived at a
forest. He was fleeing from people, and from light. The moon troubled
him and he entered the mysterious shade of the forest. Sometimes
stopping, sometimes following unbroken paths, leaning upon century-old
trunks, entangled in the briars, he looked toward the town, which
lay at his feet bathed in the light of the moon, stretching itself
out on the plain, lying on the shore of the lake. Birds, disturbed
in their sleep, flew away. Owls screeched and flew from one limb to
another. But Elias neither heard nor saw them. He thought he was being
followed by the infuriated shades of his ancestors. He saw the horrible
basket hanging from every branch with the blood-covered head of Bálat,
just as his father had described it to him. He thought he saw the dead
body of his grandmother lying at the foot of every tree. He seemed
to see the skeleton of his dishonored grandfather in the darkness,
and the skeleton, the old woman, and the head all cried out to him,
"Coward! Coward!"
He left the mountain and fled down toward the sea. He ran along the
beach in agitation. But there in the distance, amid the waves, where
the light of the moon seemed to raise a fog, he thought he saw a shade
raise itself, the shade of his sister, with her breast covered with
blood, her hair hanging loose in the air.
Elias fell upon his knees on the sand.
"And you, too!" he cried stretching out his arms.
Then, with his eyes fixed on the fog, he arose slowly and, advancing
toward it, went into the water as if to follow somebody. He waded on
over the gentle slope of the beach which forms the bar. He was already
far from the shore and the water was up to his belt. He went on and
on, as if fascinated by a seducing spirit. The water was now up to his
breast. Suddenly, the discharge of musketry awoke him from his dream,
the vision disappeared, and the young man returned to reality. He
stopped, reflected, and noticed that he was in the water. The lake
was smooth and he could still see the lights in the fishermen's huts.
He returned to the shore and made his way toward the town. What
for? He himself did not know.
The town seemed uninhabited. The houses were all closed. Even the
animals, the dogs which are accustomed to bark at night, had hid
themselves through fear. The silvery light of the moon increased the
sadness and solitude.
Afraid of meeting the Civil Guards, he went through the orchards and
gardens. In one of the gardens he thought he saw two human forms,
but he continued his way. Jumping over fences and walls, he arrived
after great labor at the other side of the town, and directed his
steps toward Ibarra's house. The servants were in the door, lamenting
and commenting on the arrest of their master.
Aware of what had passed, Elias went away, but returned to the house,
leaped over the wall, crawled through a window and went into the
cabinet or laboratory, where the candle which Ibarra had left was
still burning.
Elias saw the papers and the books. He found the arms and the little
sacks which contained the money and the jewelry. All that had passed
ran through his imagination again, and, seeing all the papers which
might incriminate Ibarra, he thought of collecting them, throwing
them through the window and burying them.
He glanced toward the garden and, by the light of the moon, he saw
two Civil Guards coming with an adjutant. Their bayonets and helmets
were glistening in the light.
Then he decided. He piled up the clothes and papers in the middle
of the cabinet, emptied the oil in a lamp upon the pile and set fire
to it. He quickly buckled the arms around him. He saw the picture of
Maria Clara, hesitated--put it in one of the little sacks, and jumped
out of the window with them all.
It was already time, for the two Civil Guards were forcing their
entrance.
"Let us go up to get your master's papers," said the adjutant.
"Have you permission? If not, you shall not go up!" said an old
servant.
But the soldiers pushed the servants aside with the butts of their
guns and went upstairs. A thick smoke was already filling the whole
house, and gigantic tongues of flame were coming out from the sala,
licking the doors and windows.
"Fire! Fire! Fire!" they all cried.
Each hurried to save what he could, but the fire had filled the small
laboratory, breaking out furiously among the inflammable materials. The
Civil Guards had to turn back. The fire, roaring and sweeping all
before it, closed the passage to them. In vain they brought water
from the well. All were shouting, and crying for help, but they were
isolated. The fire reached the other rooms and in thick columns of
smoke ascended to the heavens. Some peasants came from a distance,
but they arrived only in time to see the frightful spectacle, the
end of that old building, so long respected by the elements.