Part 12 (1/2)
”What do you wish?” he asked.
”That you give up at once the criminal named Elias who acted as pilot for your party this morning,” he replied, in a threatening tone.
”A criminal? The pilot? You must be mistaken!” replied Ibarra.
”No, sir; that Elias is now accused of another crime, of having laid his hands on a priest----”
”Ah! And is the pilot the one?”
”He is the same one, so we are told. You are allowing people of bad reputation to attend your festivals, Senor Ibarra.”
Ibarra looked at him from head to foot and replied with supreme contempt: ”I don't have to account to you for my actions. At our festivals everybody is well received, and you yourself, if you had come, would have been given a seat at the table, the same as the alferez who was here among us two hours ago.”
Saying this, Ibarra turned his back to him. The sergeant bit his mustache and ordered his men to search everywhere among the trees for the pilot, whose description he had on a piece of paper.
Don Filipo said to him: ”Take note that this description corresponds to that of nine-tenths of the natives. Take care that you do not make a mistake!”
At last the soldiers returned, saying that they had not been able to discover either a banca, or a man that aroused their suspicion. The sergeant murmured a few indistinct words and then marched off.
Soon the people became jolly again, but questions, wonder and comments were without end.
So the afternoon pa.s.sed and the hour for departure arrived. Just as the sun was dropping below the horizon they left the woods. The trees seemed sad and all the surroundings seemed to bid them farewell and say: ”Good-bye, happy youth; good-bye, dream of a day.”
And a little later, by the light of glowing torches of bamboo and with the music of guitars, we leave them on the road toward the town.
CHAPTER XIII
IN THE HOUSE OF TASIO.
On the morning of the following day, Juan Crisostomo Ibarra, after visiting his estates, went to the house of Tasio, the philosopher, his father's friend.
Quiet reigned in the old man's garden. The swallows were flying about the gables of the house, but they were making scarcely a sound. The windows were covered with vines which clung to the old, moss-covered wall and made the house appear all the more solitary and quiet. Ibarra tied his horse to a post and, walking almost on tip-toes, crossed the clean and well-cultivated garden. He went up the stairs and, as the door was open, walked in. An old man leaned over a book in which he seemed to be writing. On the walls of the room were collections of insects and leaves, maps, and some shelves of books and ma.n.u.scripts.
Tasio was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice the arrival of the youth. The latter, not wis.h.i.+ng to disturb the philosopher, tried to retire from the place, but the old man, looking up, said: ”What? Are you here?” and showed no little surprise in his look.
”Excuse me,” replied Ibarra, ”I see that you are very busy.”
”As a matter of fact I was writing a little, but it is not urgent, and I want to rest myself. Can I be useful to you in any way?”
Ibarra drew some papers from his pocket-book and replied: ”My father was wont to consult you in many things, and I remember that he never had to do other than congratulate himself when he followed your advice. I have on my hands a small undertaking and I want to be a.s.sured of success.”
Ibarra then related to him briefly his plan for the erection of a school house in honor of his betrothed. He showed the stupefied philosopher the plans which had been returned from Manila.
”I wish that you would advise me as to what persons I ought first to have on my side in order to make the undertaking most successful. You are well acquainted with the inhabitants of the town. I have just arrived here and am almost a stranger in my country.”
The old man examined the plans which were laid out before him. His eyes were full of tears.