Friars and Filipinos Part 39

"And what for?" he asked at last.

"Put all that you have of value in a secure place...."

"And what for?"

"Burn all papers written by you or to you. The most innocent can be interpreted in a bad sense."

"But what for?"

"What for? Because I have just discovered a conspiracy which will be attributed to you in order to ruin you."

"A conspiracy? And who has planned it?"

"I have been unable to learn the author of it. Only a moment ago I was talking with one of the unfortunate men who have been paid for it. I could not dissuade him."

"And didn't that fellow say who paid him?"

"Yes. Asking me to keep the secret, he told me that it was you."

"My G.o.d!" exclaimed Ibarra. He stood stupefied.

"Senor, don't hesitate, don't doubt, don't lose time, for undoubtedly the conspiracy will break out this very night."

Ibarra, with staring eyes, and hands holding his head, seemed not to hear him.

"The blow cannot be thwarted," continued Elias. "I have arrived too late. I do not know their leaders ... save yourself, Senor, save yourself for the sake of your country."

"Where shall I flee? They are expecting me this evening," exclaimed Ibarra, thinking of Maria Clara.

"To any other town, to Manila, to the house of some official; only flee somewhere so that they will not say that you are directing the movement."

"And if I myself denounce the conspiracy?"

"You denounce it?" exclaimed Elias, looking at him, and stepping back. "You would pa.s.s for a traitor and a coward in the eyes of the conspirators, and for a pusillanimous person in the eyes of others. They would say that you had played a trick to win some praise, they would say...."

"But what can be done?"

"Already I have told you. Destroy all the papers you have which relate to you; flee and await developments."

"And Maria Clara?" exclaimed the young man. "No; death first!"

Elias wrung his hands and said:

"Well, then, at least avoid the blow. Prepare yourself against their accusations."

Ibarra looked around him in a stupefied manner.

"Then, help me! There in those bags I have my family letters. Sort out those from my father, which are, perhaps, the ones that would incriminate me. Read the signatures."

Ibarra, stunned and overwhelmed, opened and closed drawers, collected papers, hastily read letters, tore up some, kept others, took down books and thumbed through some of them. Elias did the same, if indeed with less confusion, with equal zeal. But he stopped, with eyes wide open, turned over a paper which he had in his hand and asked in a trembling voice:

"Did your family know Don Pedro Eibarramendia?"

"Certainly!" replied Ibarra, opening a drawer and taking out a pile of papers. "He was my great-grandfather."

"Your great grandfather? Don Pedro Eibarramendia?" he again asked, with livid features and a changed appearance.

"Yes," replied Ibarra, distracted. "We cut short the name, for it was too long."

"He was a Basque?" said Elias approaching him.

"Yes; but what's the matter?" he asked, surprised.

Elias closed his fist, shook it in Ibarra's face and looked at him. Crisostomo stepped back as soon as he read the expression on that face.

"Do you know who Don Pedro Eibarramendia was?" he asked between his teeth. "Don Pedro Eibarramendia was that wretch who accused my grandfather and caused all our misery.... I was looking for one of his name. G.o.d has given you into my hands.... Account to me for our misfortunes."

Ibarra looked at him terrified. Elias shook him by the arm and, in a bitter voice, filled with hate, said:

"Look at me well; see if I have suffered, and you, you live, you love, you have fortune, home, consideration. You live ... you live!"

And, beside himself, he ran toward a small collection of arms, but he had scarcely grasped two swords when he let them fall, and, like a madman, looked at Ibarra, who remained immovable.

"What am I to do?" he said and fled from the house.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

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 Salvi uneasily paced the sala.

It was not because the convalescent had no appet.i.te 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?"