Part 4 (2/2)
said he in answer to her questioning glance. ”The only thing you have ever given me.”
She, in turn, drew a little, white satin bag from the bosom of her dress. ”Stop!” she said, tapping his hand with her own. ”You must not touch it; it is a letter of farewell.”
”The one that I wrote you before leaving?”
”My dear sir, have you ever written any other?”
”And what did I say then?”
”Many falsehoods; excuses of a bad debtor,” replied she, smiling and showing how agreeable these falsehoods had been to her. ”But be quiet! I will read it to you, but I will omit your polite speeches out of consideration for your feelings.”
Raising the paper to the height of her eyes, in order to conceal her face, she began. ”'My----,' I shall not read you what follows that, for it is not true.” She ran her eyes over some lines and began to read again: ”'My father wishes me to go away, in spite of my entreaties. He says that I am a man and must think of my future and my duty; that I must learn how to live, which I cannot do in my own country, so that in the future I may be of some use. He says that if I remain at his side, in his shadow, in this atmosphere of business, I will never learn how to look ahead, and that when he is gone, I shall be like the plant of which our poet Baltazar speaks--as it always lives in the water, it never learns how to endure a moment's heat.--He reproached me because I wept, and his reproach hurt me so that I confessed that I loved you. My father stopped, thought a moment and, placing his hand on my shoulder, said in a trembling voice: ”Do you think that you alone know how to love, that your father does not love you, and that his heart is not pained at being separated from you? It is a short time since your mother died, and I am already reaching that age when the help and counsel of youth are needed. And yet I consent to your going, not even knowing that I shall ever see you again. The future is opening to you, but closing to me. Your loves are being born; mine are dying. Fire blazes in your blood, but cold is gradually finding its way into mine. And yet you weep, and are not willing to sacrifice the present for a future useful to yourself and your country.” The eyes of my father filled with tears and I fell upon my knees at his feet and embraced him. I asked his pardon and said that I was willing to go.'”
The emotion which Ibarra manifested put an end to the reading. As pale as death, he arose and began to walk nervously from one side to the other.
”What is the matter?” she asked.
”You have made me forget that I have duties to perform, and that I ought to leave immediately for my town. To-morrow is the fiesta in memory of the dead.”
Maria Clara stopped and silently fixed her large and dreamy eyes upon him for some minutes. Then taking some flowers from a vase near by, she said with emotion: ”Go! I do not wish to detain you. We shall see each other again in a few days. Place these flowers on the graves of your father and mother.”
A few moments later, Ibarra descended the stairs, accompanied by Captain Tiago and Dona Isabel, while Maria Clara locked herself up in the oratory.
”Do me the favor to tell Andeng to get the house ready, and that Maria and Isabel are coming. A pleasant journey!” While the Captain was saying this, Ibarra got into the carriage and drove off in the direction of the Plaza of San Gabriel.
A few minutes later the Captain shouted to Maria Clara, who was weeping by the side of the image of the Virgin: ”Hurry up and light two peseta candles in honor of San Roque and another in honor of San Rafael, the patron saint of travellers. And light the lamp of Our Lady of Peace and Protector of Travellers, for there are many bandits about. It is better to spend four reales for wax and six cuartos for oil than to have to pay a big ransom later on.”
CHAPTER VI
THINGS PHILIPPINE.
Father Damaso drove up in front of Captain Tiago's house and the Franciscan stepped to the ground just as Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara were getting into their silver-trimmed carriage. They saluted Father Damaso, and he, in his preoccupation, gently patted Maria Clara on the cheek.
”Where are you going?” the friar asked.
”To the convent to get my things,” replied the younger.
”Ah, ha! Ah, ha! We'll see who is the stronger. We'll see!” he muttered and turned away, leaving the two women in wonder as to what it all meant. The friar stepped along lightly, and reaching the stairs, went up.
”He must be studying his sermon,” said Isabel. ”Get in, Maria; we shall be late.”
Whether Father Damaso was studying his sermon or not we cannot say. At any rate, he was absorbed in some important matter, for he even forgot to extend his hand to Captain Tiago upon entering, greatly to the embarra.s.sment of the Captain, who had to feign kissing it.
”Santiago, we have some very important matters to talk over; let us go to your office.”
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