the festival was over. the citizens found, just as every year, that their treasury was poorer, that they had worked, perspired, and stayed up nights without enjoying themselves, without acquiring new friends, and in a word, had paid dearly for the noise and their headaches. but it did not matter. the next year they would do the same thing, and the same for the coming century, just as had always been the custom to the present time.
enough sadness reigned in captain tiago’s house. all the windows were closed; the people scarcely made a noise, and no one dared to speak except in the kitchen. maria clara, the soul of the house, lay sick in her bed.
“what do you think, isabel? shall i make a donation to the cross of tunasan or to the cross of matahong?” asked the solicitous father in a low voice. “the cross of tunasan grows, but that of matahong sweats. which do you think is the most miraculous?”
isabel thought for a moment, moved her head and murmured: “to grow—to grow is more miraculous than to sweat. we all sweat, but we do not all grow.”
“that is true, yes, isabel, but bear in mind that for wood to sweat when it is made into the leg of a chair is no small miracle. well, the best thing to do is to give alms to both crosses, so that neither will feel resentful, and maria clara will recover more quickly. are the rooms in good order? you know that a new se?or comes with the doctors, a relative of father dámaso by marriage. it is necessary that nothing be lacking.”
the two cousins, sinang and victoria, were at the other end of the dining-room. they had come to keep company with the sick maria. andeng was helping them clean up a tea service in order to serve tea. [149]
“do you know doctor espada?a?” asked maria clara’s foster sister, directing her question to victoria.
“no!” replied the latter. “the only thing that i know about him is that he charges very dearly, according to captain tiago.”
“then he ought to be very good,” said andeng. “the one who performed the operation on the stomach of do?a marta charged a big price, but he was very wise.”
“you goose!” exclaimed sinang. “not all who charge high prices are wise. look at doctor guevara. he did not know how to aid a woman in childbirth, but after cutting off the child’s head, he collected one hundred pesos from the widower. what he did know was how to charge.”
“what do you know about it?” her cousin asked, giving her a jab with her elbow.
“why shouldn’t i know about it? the husband, who is a wood-sawyer, after losing his wife, had to lose his house also, for the alcalde was a friend of the doctor’s and made him pay. why shouldn’t i know? my father loaned him money so that he could make a trip to santa cruz.”
a coach stopped before the house and cut off all the conversation.
captain tiago, followed by aunt isabel, ran downstairs to receive the new arrivals. they were the doctor, don tiburcio de espada?a, his wife, doctora do?a victorina de los reyes de de espada?a; and a young spaniard. the latter had a sympathetic face and a pleasing appearance.
the doctora wore a silk gown, embroidered with flowers, and on her hat, a large parrot half crushed among trimmings of red and blue ribbons. the dust of the road had mingled with the rice powder on her cheeks, strongly accentuating her wrinkles. she was leaning on the arm of her lame husband.
“i have the pleasure to present to you our cousin, don alfonso linares de espada?a,” said do?a victorina, pointing toward the young man. “the gentleman is a god-son of a relative of father dámaso, and is private secretary to all the ministers.” [150]
the young man bowed gracefully. captain tiago almost kissed his hand.
do?a victorina was a woman of about forty-five summers, which, according to her arithmetical calculations, was equivalent to thirty-two springs. she had been pretty in her youth, but, raging over her own beauty, she had looked with disdain on many filipino adorers, for her aspirations were for the other race. she had not cared to entrust her little white hand to anybody, but this not on account of lack of confidence on her part, for she had entrusted rings and jewels of inestimable value to various foreign adventurers.
six months before the time of the happenings of which we are writing, she saw her beautiful dream realized, that dream of her whole life, on account of which she had disdained all manner of flattery and even the promises of love, which had been cooed into her ears, or sung in serenades by captain tiago. late, it is true, she had realized her dream; but she knew well the proverb—“better late than never,” and consoled herself by repeating it again and again. “there is no complete happiness on this earth,” was her other favorite proverb, but neither of these ever passed her lips in the presence of other people.
do?a victorina, after passing her first, second, third and fourth youth in fishing in the sea of men for the object of her dreams, had at last to content herself with what fortune cared to give her. the poor little woman, if she, instead of having passed thirty-two springs, had not passed more than thirty-one—the difference according to her arithmetic was very great—would have thrown back the prize which destiny offered her, and preferred to wait for another more in conformity with her tastes. but, as the man proposed and necessity disposed it so, for she needed a husband very badly, she was compelled to content herself with a poor man, who had been driven by necessity to leave the province of estremadura in spain. he, after wandering about the world for six or seven months, a modern ulysses, found at last in the island of luzon, hospitality, money, and a faded calypso, his better half—but alas! a bitter half. he was known as the unhappy tiburcio espada?a, and, although he was [151]thirty-five years old and seemed even older, he was, however, younger than do?a victorina, who was only thirty-two.
he had come to the philippines in the capacity of clerk in the custom house, but after all the sea-sickness of the voyage and after fracturing a leg on the way, he had the bad luck to receive his discharge fifteen days after his arrival. he was left without a single cuarto.
distrusting the sea, he did not wish to return to spain without having made a fortune. so he decided to devote himself to something. spanish pride did not permit him to do any manual labor. the poor man would have worked with pleasure to have earned an honorable living, but the prestige of the spaniard did not permit this, nor did that prestige provide him with the necessities of life.
at first he lived at the expense of some of his countrymen, but, as tiburcio had some self-respect, the bread was sour to him, and instead of getting fat he grew thin. as he had neither knowledge of any science, money nor recommendations, his countrymen, in order to get rid of him, advised him to go to some of the provinces and pass himself off as a doctor of medicine. at first, he did not like the idea, and opposed the plan, for although he had been a servant in the san carlos hospital, he had not learned anything about the science of healing, his duty having been to dust off the benches and light the fires, and, even in this work, he had served only a short time. but as necessity was pressing him hard, and as his friends pointed out the vanity of his scruples, he took their advice, went into the provinces and began to visit the sick, charging as much for his services as his conscience permitted. later on he began to charge dearly and to put a high price on his visits. on this account, he was at once taken to be a great doctor and would probably have made his fortune, had not the attention of the protective medical society of manila, been called to his exorbitant charges and to his harmful competition.
private citizens and professors interceded in his behalf. “man!” said the zealous doctor c. in speaking of him. “let him make his little money. let him make [152]his little six or seven thousand pesos. he will be able to return to his native land then and live in peace. what does it matter to you? let him deceive the unwary natives. then they may become smarter. he is a poor, unhappy fellow. do not take the bread from his mouth. be a good spaniard!”
doctor c. was a good spaniard and he winked at the matter. but when the facts reached the ears of the people, they began to lose confidence in him, and little by little don tiburcio espada?a lost his clientage, and found himself almost obliged to beg for bread day by day. then it was that he learned from a friend of his, who was also a friend of do?a victorina about the position of that woman, and about her patriotism and good heart. don tiburcio saw in her a bit of blue sky and asked to be presented.
do?a victorina and don tiburcio met. tarde venientibus ossa, he would have exclaimed if he had known latin. she was no longer passable, she was past. her abundant hair had been reduced to a wad about the size of an onion top, as the servants were wont to describe it. her face was full of wrinkles and her teeth had begun to loosen. her eyes had also suffered, and considerably, too. she had to squint frequently when she cared to look off at a certain distance. her character was the only thing that had remained unchanged.
at the end of half an hour’s conversation, they came to an understanding and accepted each other. she would have preferred a spaniard less lame, less of a stammerer, less bald, one with more teeth, one of more rank and social standing, or categoría, as she called it. but this class of spaniards never came to ask her hand. she had heard, too, more than once that “opportunity is bald,” and she honestly believed that don tiburcio was that very opportunity, for on account of his dark days he had prematurely lost his hair. what woman is not prudent at thirty-two?
don tiburcio, for his part, felt a vague melancholy when he thought of his honeymoon. he smiled with resignation especially when he called the phantom of hunger to his aid. he had never had ambition or pretensions. [153]his tastes were simple, his thoughts limited; but his heart, untouched till then, had dreamed of a very different divinity. in his youth when, tired by his day’s labor, after a frugal meal, he lay down on a poor bed, he dreamed of a smiling, affectionate image. afterward, when his sorrows and privations increased, the years passed and his poetical dreams were not fulfilled, he thought merely of a good woman, a willing hand, a worker, who might afford him a small dowry, console him when tired from labor, and quarrel with him from time to time. yes, he was thinking of the quarrels as a happiness! but when, obliged to wander from country to country, in search no longer of a fortune, but of some commodity to sustain his life for the remainder of his days; when, deluded by the accounts of his countrymen who came from beyond the seas, he embarked for the philippines—then the vision of a housekeeper gave way to an image of an arrogant mestiza, a beautiful native with large black eyes, draped in silks and transparent garments, loaded with diamonds and gold, offering him her love and her carriages.
he arrived in the philippines and believed that he was about to realize his dream, for the young women who, in silver-plated carriages, frequented the luneta and the malecon, manila’s popular and fashionable drives, looked at him with a certain curiosity. later, when this curiosity on their part had ceased, the mestiza disappeared from his dreams, and with great labor he formed in his mind a picture of a widow, but an agreeable widow. so it was that when he saw only part of his dream taking on real form, he became sad. but he was somewhat of a philosopher and said to himself: “that was a dream, but in the world one does not live in dreams.” thus he settled all his doubts; she wasted a lot of rice powder on her cheeks. pshaw! when they were once married he would make her stop that easily enough; she had many wrinkles in her face, but his coat had more bare spots and patches; she was old, pretentious, and imperious, but hunger was more imperious, and still more pretentious; and then, too, he had a sweet disposition, and, who could tell?—love modifies character; she spoke spanish [154]very badly, but he himself did not speak it well; at least, the head of the customs department had so notified him in his discharge from his position, and besides, what did it matter? what if she was old and ridiculous? he was lame, toothless and bald. when some friend jested with him, he would respond: “give me bread and call me a fool.”
don tiburcio was what is vulgarly called a man who would not harm a fly. he was modest and incapable of conceiving an evil thought. he would have made a good missionary had he lived in olden times. his stay in the country had not given him that conviction of his own superiority, of his own worth, and of his high importance, which the larger part of his countrymen acquire in a few weeks in the philippines. his heart had never been able to conceive hatred for anybody or anything. he had not yet been able to find a revolutionist. he only looked upon the people as unhappy beings whom it was fitting for him to deprive of a little of their wealth in order to prevent himself becoming even more unhappy than they. when they tried to make a case against him for passing as a doctor without a proper license, he did not resent it, he did not complain. he saw the justice of the case, and only replied: “but it is necessary to live!”
so they were married and went to santa a?a to pass their honeymoon. but on the night of the wedding do?a victorina had a bad attack of indigestion. don tiburcio gave thanks to god and showed solicitude and care. on the second night, however, he conducted himself like an honorable man, but on the day following, when he looked in the mirror at his bare gums, he smiled with melancholy: he had grown ten years older at least.
do?a victorina, charmed with her husband, had a good set of front teeth made for him, and had the best tailors in the city dress and equip him. she ordered carriages and calesas, sent to batangas and albay provinces for the finest spans of horses, and even obliged him to make two entries in the coming horse races.
in the meantime, while she was transforming her husband, she did not forget her own person. she laid aside the silk saya or filipino skirt and pi?a cloth bodice, for [155]a dress of european style. she substituted false curls in front for the simple hair dress of the filipinos. her dresses, which fitted her “divinely bad,” disturbed the peace and tranquillity of the entire neighborhood.
the husband never went out of the house afoot—she did not want people to see that he was lame. he always took her for drives through the places most deserted, much to her pain, for she wanted to display her husband on the drives most frequented by the public. but out of respect for their honeymoon, she kept silent.
the last quarter of the honeymoon had just begun when he wanted to stop her from using rice powder on her cheeks, saying to her that it was false and not natural. do?a victorina frowned and looked squarely at his front set of teeth. he at once became silent, and she learned his weakness.
she soon got the idea that she was to become a mother and made the following announcement to all her friends: “next month, we, i and de espada?a are going to the pe?insula.1 i don’t want to have my son born here and have them call him a revolutionist.”
she added a de to her husband’s name. the de did not cost anything and gave categoría to the name. when she signed herself, she wrote victorina de los reyes de de espada?a. that de de espada?a was her mania. neither the lithographer who printed her cards, nor her husband, could get the idea out of her head.
“if i do not put more than one de in the name people will think that i haven’t it, fool!” said she to her husband.
she was talking continually about her preparations for the voyage to spain. she learned by memory the names of the points where the steamers called, and it was a pleasure to hear her talk—“i am going to see the sismus of the suez canal. de espada?a thinks that it is the most beautiful, and de espada?a has seen the whole world.”—“i will probably never return to this land of savages.”—“i was not born to live here. aden or port said would be more suitable for me. i have always [156]thought so since i was a child.” do?a victorina, in her geography, divided the world into two parts, the philippines and spain. in this she differed from the lower class of people in madrid for they divide it into spain and america, or spain and china, america and china being merely different names for the same country.
the husband knew that some of these things were barbarisms, but he kept silent so that she would not mock him and twit him with his stammering. she feigned to be whimsical in order to increase her illusion that she was a mother, and she began to dress herself in colors, adorn herself with flowers and ribbons, and to walk through the escolta in a wrapper. but oh! what an illusion! three months passed and the dream vanished. by this time, having no fear that her son would be a revolutionist, she gave up the voyage. she consulted doctors, mid-wives and old women, but all in vain. to the great displeasure of captain tiago she made fun of san pascual bailon, as she did not care to run to any saint. on account of this a friend of her husband told her:
“believe me, se?ora, you are the only espiritu fuerte (strong-minded person) in this country.”
she smiled without understanding what espiritu fuerte meant, but, at night, when it was time to be sleeping, she asked her husband about it.
“daughter,” replied he, “the e—espir—espiritu most fu-fuerte that i know—know about is a—a—ammonia. my fr-fr-friend must have be-been us-using a figure of rhetoric.”
from that time on, she was always saying, whenever she could, “i am the only ammonia in this country, speaking rhetorically, as se?or n. de n. who is from the pe?insula and who has much categoría, puts it.”
whatever she said had to be done. she had come to dominate her husband completely. on his part, he offered no great resistance, and was converted into a little lap dog for her. if he incommoded her she would not let him go out for a drive, and when she became really infuriated, she would snatch out his false teeth and leave [157]him a horrible-looking man for one or more days, according to the offense.
it occurred to her that her husband ought to be a doctor of medicine and surgery, and so she expressed herself to him.
“daughter! do you want them to arrest me?” he said, frightened.
“don’t be a fool. let me arrange it!” she replied. “you are not going to attend any one, but i want them to call you a doctor and me a doctora, eh?”
and on the following day rodoreda, a prominent marble dealer in manila, received an order for the following engraving on black marble: dr. de espada?a, specialist in all kinds of diseases.
all of the servants had to give them their new titles, and, in consequence of it all, she increased the number of her curls in front, the layer of rice powder, the ribbons and laces, and looked with more disdain than ever on the poor and less fortunate women of her country, who had less categoría than she. each day she felt herself more dignified and elevated, and, following along this road, in less than a year she would think herself of divine origin.
these sublime thoughts, however, did not prevent her from growing more ridiculous and older each day. every time that captain tiago met her in the street and remembered that he had once made love to her in vain, he would go at once to the church and give a peso for a mass as a thank offering for his good luck in not marrying her. in spite of this, captain tiago highly respected her husband, on account of his title of “specialist in all kinds of diseases,” and he listened with close attention to the few phrases that he managed to stutter out. in fact, it was on account of this title and the fact that the doctor did not attend everybody, that the captain chose him to attend his daughter.
as to the young man linares, it is a different story. when she was making ready for her voyage to spain, do?a victorina thought of having an administrator from the pe?insula to look after her affairs, for she did not trust filipinos. her husband remembered a nephew in [158]madrid who was studying to become a lawyer, and who was considered the smartest one in his family. they wrote to him, then, sending him in advance money for the passage, and, when the dream was dispelled, the young man was already on his way.
these are the three persons who had just arrived.
while they were eating their breakfast, father salví arrived, and, as the husband and wife had already met the friar, they presented him to the young linares, with all his titles. the young man blushed.
as was natural they spoke of maria clara. the young maiden was resting and sleeping. they talked over the voyage. do?a victorina showed her verbosity by criticising the customs of the provinces, the nipa houses, the bamboo bridges, without forgetting to tell the curate about her friendship with the commander of the army, the alcalde so and so, judge so and so of the supreme court, and with the governor of the province, all persons of categoría, who had much consideration for her.
“if you had come two days before, dona victorina,” replied captain tiago during a short pause, “you would have met his excellency, the governor general. he sat right there.”
“what? how’s that? was his excellency here? and in your house? a lie!”
“i tell you he sat right there. if you had come two days before——”
“ah! what a shame that little clara did not fall sick before!” exclaimed she, in real sorrow. and directing herself to linares: “do you hear, cousin? his excellency was here! you see de espada?a was right when he told you that we were not going to the house of a miserable native. for you should know, don santiago, that our cousin was a friend of all the ministers in madrid and all the dukes, and he dined in the house of count del campanario (belfry).”
“duke de la torre (tower), victorina,” said her husband, correcting her.
“it amounts to the same thing. do you think you can tell me that——”
“would i find father dámaso in town to-day?” interrupted [159]linares, turning to father salví. “they have told me that he is near here.”
“he is, precisely, and will come here in a little while,” replied the curate.
“how glad i am! i have a letter for him,” exclaimed the young man. “and if it had not been for this happy chance which brought me here, i would have come expressly to visit him.”
“the happy chance—that is, maria clara—had, in the meantime awakened.”
“de espada?a!” said do?a victorina, finishing her breakfast. “are we going to see little clara?” and turning to captain tiago, “for you only, don santiago; for you alone! my husband does not treat anybody except people of categoría, and he even refuses some of them! my husband is not like those about here—in madrid he only visited people of categoría.”
they passed into the sick room.
the room was almost dark. the windows were shut for fear of a draught, and the little light which illuminated the room came from the two wax candles which were burning in front of an image of the virgin of antipolo.
her head wrapped up in a handkerchief, saturated in cologne water, her body wrapped in wide folds of white sheets which outlined her virginal form, the sick maiden lay on her bed of kamakon2 among jusi and pi?a curtains. her hair, forming a frame around her oval face, increased her transparent paleness, which was animated only by her large eyes full of sadness. at her side were her two friends and andeng.
de espada?a felt of her pulse, examined her tongue, asked some questions, and shaking his head seriously, said:
“sh-sh-she is si-sick. but we-we-we can cu-cu-cure her.”
do?a victorina looked with pride at those around her.
“a li-lichen in mil-milk in the-the morning; syrup of marsh marsh-mal-mallow, tw-o—two hounds’—hounds’ tongue pi-pills,” ordered de espada?a. [160]
“take courage, little clara,” said do?a victorina, approaching her. “we have come to cure you. i am going to present our cousin to you.”
linares was absorbed, contemplating those eloquent eyes which seemed to be seeking some one, and he did not hear do?a victorina call him.
“se?or linares,” said the curate, calling him out of his ecstacy. “here comes father dámaso.”
in fact, father dámaso was coming, pale and somewhat sad. on leaving his bed, his first visit was to maria clara. he was no longer the father dámaso that he had been, so robust and talkative. he now walked along in silence and with unsteady footsteps. [161]
1 a wrong pronunciation of the spanish peninsula meaning spain.
2 a costly and rich wood like ebony.
