Friars and Filipinos Part 8

Ibarra could not keep back his smile.

"You laugh," replied the teacher, also smiling. "I confess that I did not feel like smiling at that time. I felt the blood rush to my head, and a thunderbolt seemed to dazzle my brain. I saw the priest far off, very far from me. I started toward him to reply. The sacristan mayor interposed and said very seriously, in Tagalog: 'You want to stop wearing borrowed clothes. Be content to speak in your own language and do not spoil Spanish, which is not meant for you. You have heard about Ciruela? Well, Ciruela was a teacher who did not know how to read, but he taught school.' I wanted to detain him for a moment, but he went quickly into his room and closed the door violently. What was I to do? In order to collect my salary I have to have the approval of the priest on my bill, and have to make a journey to the capital of the province. What could I do to him--the moral, political and civil authority of the town, sustained by his corporation, feared by the Government, rich, powerful, always consulting, advising, listening, believing and attending to everything--what could I do to him? If he insulted me, I had to keep my mouth closed. If I talked back, he would throw me out of work, spoiling my career. And what good would it do--education? On the contrary, everybody would take up the priest's side of the matter; they would criticise me, they would call me vain, proud, arrogant, a poor Christian, poorly educated, and when not this, they would call me an anti-Spaniard and an agitator. The school teacher should have no authority. He should only be lazy, humble, and resigned to his low position. May G.o.d pardon me if I do not speak conscientiously and truthfully, but I was born in this country, I have to live, I have a mother to support and I have to be resigned to my lot."

"And have you continued to be discouraged on account of this trouble? Have you attempted nothing since?"

"Would to G.o.d that it had ended there!" he replied. "Would to G.o.d that that had been the end of my misfortunes. The truth is that from that day I began to take a dislike to my profession. Every day the school brought to my mind my disgrace and made every hour a bitter one for me. But what could I do? I could not disappoint my mother. I had to tell her that the three years of sacrifices which she had made for me in order that I might learn the profession now made me happy. I had to make her believe that the profession was a most honorable one, that the work was most pleasant, that the road was strewn with flowers and that the fulfillment of my duty produced nothing but friendships. If I had told her the contrary, I myself would still be as unhappy and would only make another unhappy, which was not only useless but a sin. So, I kept at my work and tried not to be discouraged. I tried to fight it down."

The school teacher made a short pause and then began again.

"You know that the books in most of the schools are in Spanish, excepting the Tagalog catechism, which varies according to the corporation which appoints the priest of the parish. The books generally used in the school are novenaries, the 'Doxology' and Father Astete's catechism, which are no more edifying than the books of heretics. On account of the fact that it was impossible to teach the children Spanish, as I wanted to do, and owing to the fact that I could not translate so many books into the native language, I decided to try to subst.i.tute for them gradually, short verses, extracts from the best Tagalog books, such as the 'Treatise on Urbanity' by Hortensio y Feliza, and some of the little pamphlets on agriculture. Sometimes I myself translated small works, such as the 'History of the Philippines,' by Father Barranera, and afterward dictated to the pupils for their note books, adding at times some of my own observations. As I had no maps to teach them geography, I copied one of those of the province which I saw in the capital, and with this reproduction and, by the aid of the tiles on the floor, I was able to give them some ideas about the country. The new priest sent for me. Although he did not reprimand me severely, he told me, however, that my first duty was to teach religion, and that before I began to teach any such things I must prove by an examination that all the children knew by heart the 'Mysteries,' the 'Doxology,' and the 'Catechism of the Christian Doctrine.'

"So, in the meantime, I am endeavoring to convert the children into parrots so that they will know by heart all of these things of which they do not understand a single word. Many of the pupils already know the 'Mysteries' and the 'Doxology,' but I fear that I am making Father Astete's efforts useless, inasmuch as my pupils do not even distinguish between the questions and the answers, or what either of them signifies. Thus we shall die and thus shall do those who are yet to be born; yet in Europe they talk about Progress!"

"Let us not be so pessimistic," replied Ibarra, rising to his feet. "The teniente mayor has invited me to attend a town meeting to be held in the tribunal. Who knows but that some plan for improvement may there be adopted!"

The school teacher arose to go, shaking his head in token of doubt.

CHAPTER X

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS.

The people of the town have made their preparation for the festival in honor of the patron saint, San Diego, and are gossiping about it, and about the arrival of Maria Clara, accompanied by her aunt Isabel. They rejoiced over it, because they liked her, and admired her beauty very much. They also rejoiced in the change it had made in the priest, Father Salvi. "He is often absent-minded during the holy services,"

they said. "He scarcely speaks with us, and he plainly grows more thin and taciturn." His cook saw this constantly and complained of the little honor that he did his dishes. But what most excited the wonder of the people were the two lights which one could see shining in the convent during the night, while Father Salvi was visiting at the house of Maria Clara! The old dames crossed themselves and kept on gossiping.

Juan Crisostomo Ibarra had telegraphed from the capital of the province his compliments to Aunt Isabel and her niece, but he had not explained his absence. Many thought that he had been arrested for a.s.saulting Father Salvi on the afternoon of "All Saint's Day." But the comments increased still more when, on the afternoon of the third day, they saw Ibarra get out of a carriage in front of the little house of his betrothed, and courteously salute the priest, who was also making his way thither.

If we go to Maria Clara's house, we will find it like a little nest among orange and ilang-ilang trees, surrounded by flowers and vines which creep up on bamboo sticks and wires, diffusing their delicious perfume. The rich fragrance of the ilang-ilang reaches even to the window which looks out on the lake. Here sit the two young lovers. Ibarra was saying to Maria Clara:

"To-morrow, before the first ray of morning, your desire shall be fulfilled. To-night, I shall arrange all so that nothing will be lacking."

"Then I will write to my friends, so that they may come along. Arrange it so that the priest cannot come."

"And why?"

"Because he seems to be watching me. His deep and sombre eyes pain me. When he fixes them upon me, they frighten me. He speaks to me of extraordinary things, so incomprehensible, so strange. He asked me once if I had not dreamed about my mother's letters. I believe he is half crazy. My friend Sinang, and Andeng, my foster sister, say that he is a little out of his head, for he neither eats nor bathes, and he lives entirely in the darkness. Don't have him come!"

"We cannot but invite him," replied Ibarra. "The customs of the country require it. He is the priest of your house and, besides, he has conducted himself n.o.bly toward me. When the Alcalde consulted him on the business of which I have spoken to you, he had nothing but praises for me and did not pretend to offer the slightest obstacle. But I see that you are serious. I shall take care that he does not accompany us in the boat."

Light steps were heard. They were those of the priest, who was approaching with a forced smile on his lips. They began to talk of different subjects, about the weather, the town and the festival. Maria Clara devised an excuse and went out.

"And while we are speaking about festivals," said Ibarra, "allow me to invite you to the one which we are going to celebrate to-morrow. It is going to be a country picnic, which we and our friends are planning."

"And where will it be held?"

"The girls want to hold it near the brook in the woods, near the baliti tree. So we will have to get up early to reach the place before the sun gets hot."

The priest reflected, and a moment later replied: "The invitation is very tempting, and I accept it in order to prove that I hold no grudge against you for what has happened in the past. But I will have to be a little late, as I must fulfill my religious duties first. How happy to be like you, entirely free and independent!"

A few minutes later, Ibarra took his leave in order to arrange for the picnic on the following day. It was already quite dark when he left the house.

CHAPTER XI

THE FISHING PARTY.

The stars were still shining in the sapphire heavens, and the birds were sleeping on the branches of the trees, when a jolly little party, by the light from the pitch torches, wandered through the streets of the town toward the lake.

Five young maidens, clinging to each other's hands or belts, tripped along briskly. Behind them came several elderly women and a number of servants gracefully carrying on their heads baskets filled with provisions and various dishes for the picnic. On seeing their joyful faces, with their youthful smiles, their beautiful black hair as it floated in the breeze, and the wide folds of their pretty dresses, you would have taken them for G.o.ddesses of the night and would have thought that they were fleeing from day--if perchance you had not already known that it was Maria Clara and her four friends: jolly Sinang; her cousin, the serious Victoria; beautiful Iday; and the pensive Neneng, pretty, modest and timid.

They were talking with animation; they laughed; pinched each other; whispered in each other's ears and then burst out in shouts of merriment.

"You girls will wake up everybody in town. Don't you know that people are still asleep?" said Aunt Isabel, reprimanding them. "When we were young, we didn't make such a noise."

"But you didn't get up as early as we do, nor were the old men such great sleepers in your day," replied little Sinang.

They were quiet for a moment and were trying to talk in a low voice, but they quickly forgot themselves and were again filling the streets with their youthful laughter and melodious voices.

Several young fellows were coming down the street, lighting their way with large bamboo torches. They were marching along almost noiselessly to the tune of a guitar.

"That guitar sounds as though some beggar were playing it," said Sinang, laughing. But when the young fellows caught up with the rest of the party, the girls suddenly became as quiet and as serious as though they never had learned how to laugh. The young men, however, chatted away, saluted the ladies, laughed and smiled and asked half a dozen questions without giving the girls time to answer any one of them.

The two large bancas, [7] which had been secured to transport the picnic party to the fishing grounds, were fastened together and picturesquely adorned with wreaths and garlands of flowers and a large number of vari-colored candles. Paper lanterns hung from the improvised covering of the bancas. Alternately with these were roses, pinks and baskets of fruits such as pineapples, kasuys, bananas, guayabas and lanzones. Ibarra had brought his carpets, blankets and rugs and arranged comfortable seats for the ladies. The poles and paddles used to propel the bancas had also been ornamented. In the better banca were a harp, guitars, accordeons, and a buffalo horn; while, in the other boat, a little fire had been lighted in an improvised stove in order that tea, coffee and salabat [8] might be prepared for the light breakfast.

"The women sit here; the men, there," said the mothers on stepping into the banca. "Sit still and don't move, or we will be capsized."

"Cross yourselves before we start," said Aunt Isabel, as she traced the form of a cross on her breast.

"And are we to be here all by ourselves," asked Sinang, on seeing how the girls had been separated from the young men, by the a.s.signment of the seats. Then making a grimace she asked again, "Are we going to be all alone? Aray!"

This aray was caused by a little pinch which her mother had given her on the arm in the way of a reprimand for her complaint.

The bancas were now putting off slowly from the sh.o.r.e. The light from the torches and j.a.panese lanterns was reflected in the water, for the lake was as smooth as a mirror. In the far eastern horizon could be seen the first rosy tints of the approaching dawn.

Everything was very quiet. The young women, in consequence of the separation from the young men, seemed to be absorbed in meditation.

As the water was smooth as gla.s.s and the bamboo weirs where the fish were to be found were not far off, and, it was still early, it was decided that all should stop paddling and take breakfast. The lights were put out, for the day had dawned and preparations were made for desayuno. [9]