Part 15 (2/2)

”Senor Alcalde,” replied Ibarra gravely, ”if weeping cannot bring the dead man back to life, neither can anything be gained by putting a man in prison when we do not know that he is culpable. I will give bail for him and ask that he be given liberty for some days at least.”

”Well, well! But such a misfortune must not be repeated!”

All kinds of comments were circulating among the people. The theory that it was a miracle was already accepted. Father Salvi, however, seemed to rejoice very little over the miracle, which the people attributed to a saint of his order and of his parish.

There were some who claimed to have seen, as the crane was falling, a figure dressed in black like the Franciscans, go down in the ditch. It was without doubt San Diego himself. It was supposed, too, that Ibarra had heard ma.s.s and that the yellow man had not. It was all as clear as the light of the sun.

Ibarra went home to change his clothes.

”Hm! Bad beginning,” said Old Tasio as he left the place.

Ibarra had just finished dressing when a servant announced that a countryman was asking for him. Supposing that it was one of his laborers, the young man ordered that they show him into his study, which also served as a library and a chemical laboratory. But, to his great surprise, he met the muscular figure of the mysterious Elias.

”You recently saved my life,” said he in Tagalog, at once comprehending Ibarra's movement. ”I have paid you only half of the debt, and you are not indebted to me; rather the contrary. I have come to ask a favor of you....”

”Speak out!” replied the young man, in the same language and somewhat surprised at the gravity of the peasant.

For some seconds, Elias looked fixedly into Ibarra's eyes and then replied: ”If human justice should ever wish to clear up this mystery, I beg of you not to speak to any one about the warning that I gave you in the church.”

”Don't be troubled about that,” replied the young man with a certain note of displeasure in his voice. ”I know that they are hunting you, but I am no informer.”

”Oh, it is not for my sake, it is not for me!” exclaimed Elias, not without some pride. ”It is for your sake. I have nothing to fear from men.”

Ibarra's surprise increased. The tone in which the countryman was speaking was new to him and did not seem to be in accord either with his state or his fortune.

”What do you mean?” asked Ibarra, interrogating the mysterious man with his look.

”I do not speak in enigmas; I try to express myself clearly. For your greater security, it is necessary that your enemies think you unsuspecting and off your guard.”

Ibarra stepped back.

”My enemies? Have I enemies?”

”All of us have, sir, all from the lowest insect to man, from the poorest to the richest and most powerful. Enmity is the law of life. You have enemies in the highest and in the lowest ranks. You are planning a great undertaking; you have a past; your father, your grandfather had enemies because they had pa.s.sion. In life it is not criminals who provoke the most hatred, but rather honorable men.”

”Do you know my enemies?”

Elias did not reply at once, but meditated.

”I knew one, the one who has died,” he replied. ”Last night I discovered that something was being plotted against you, through some words that were exchanged between him and an unknown man who lost himself in the crowd. 'The fish will not eat this one as they did his father; you will see to-morrow,' said he. These words attracted my attention, not only on account of their meaning but because they were spoken by this man, who only a few days ago had presented himself to the superintendent of the work with the express desire that he be given charge of the work of placing the corner stone. He did not ask for a large wage, but made a great show of his knowledge. I had no sufficient reasons to attribute evil designs to him, but something told me that my suspicions were right. For this reason, in order to warn you, I chose a moment and an occasion when you could not ask me any questions. You already know the rest.”

Elias was then silent for some moments; yet Ibarra did not reply nor utter a word. He was meditating.

”I am sorry that the man is dead,” he replied at last. ”We might have been able to learn something more about it from him.”

”If he had lived he would have escaped from the trembling hand of blind, human justice. G.o.d has now judged him! G.o.d has killed him! Let G.o.d be the only judge!”

Crisostomo looked a moment at the man who was speaking to him in this manner. He noticed that his muscular arms were covered with bruises and black and blue spots.

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