The play began with Chananay and Marianito in Crispino é la comare. All now had their eyes and ears turned to the stage, all but one: Padre Salvi, who seemed to have gone there for no other purpose than that of watching Maria Clara, whose sadness gave to her beauty an air so ideal and interesting that it was easy to understand how she might be looked upon with rapture. But the eyes of the Franciscan, deeply hidden in their sunken sockets, spoke nothing of rapture. In that gloomy gaze was to be read something desperately sad—with such eyes Cain might have gazed from afar on the Paradise whose delights his mother pictured to him!
The first scene was over when Ibarra entered. His appearance caused a murmur, and attention was fixed on him and the curate. But the young man seemed not to notice anything as he greeted Maria Clara and her friends in a natural way and took a seat beside them.
The only one who spoke to him was Sinang. “Did you see the fireworks?” she asked.
“No, little friend, I had to go with the Captain-General.”
“Well, that’s a shame! The curate was with us and told us stories of the damned
—can you imagine it!—to fill us with fear so that we might not enjoy ourselves
—can you imagine it!”
The curate arose and approached Don Filipo, with whom he began an animated conversation. The former spoke in a nervous manner, the latter in a low, measured voice.
“I’m sorry that I can’t please your Reverence,” said Don Filipo, “but Señor Ibarra is one of the heaviest contributors and has a right to be here as long as he doesn’t disturb the peace.”
“But isn’t it disturbing the peace to scandalize good Christians? It’s letting a
wolf enter the fold. You will answer for this to God and the authorities!”
“I always answer for the actions that spring from my own will, Padre,” replied Don Filipo with a slight bow. “But my little authority does not empower me to mix in religious affairs. Those who wish to avoid contact with him need not talk to him. Señor Ibarra forces himself on no one.”
“But it’s giving opportunity for danger, and he who loves danger perishes in it.”
“I don’t see any danger, Padre. The alcalde and the Captain-General, my superior officers, have been talking with him all the afternoon and it’s not for me to teach them a lesson.”
“If you don’t put him out of here, we’ll leave.”
“I’m very sorry, but I can’t put any one out of here.” The curate repented of his threat, but it was too late to retract, so he made a sign to his companion, who arose with regret, and the two went out together. The persons attached to them followed their example, casting looks of hatred at Ibarra.
The murmurs and whispers increased. A number of people approached the young man and said to him, “We’re with you, don’t take any notice of them.”
“Whom do you mean by them? ” Ibarra asked in surprise.
“Those who’ve just left to avoid contact with you.”
“Left to avoid contact with me?”
“Yes, they say that you’re excommunicated.”
“Excommunicated?” The astonished youth did not know what to say. He looked about him and saw that Maria Clara was hiding her face behind her fan. “But is it possible?” he exclaimed finally. “Are we still in the Dark Ages? So—”
He approached the young women and said with a change of tone, “Excuse me, I’ve forgotten an engagement. I’ll be back to see you home.”
“Stay!” Sinang said to him. “Yeyeng is going to dance La Calandria. She dances
divinely.”
“I can’t, little friend, but I’ll be back.” The uproar increased.
Yeyeng appeared fancifully dressed, with the “Da usté su permiso?” and Carvajal was answering her, “Pase usté adelante,” when two soldiers of the Civil Guard went up to Don Filipo and ordered him to stop the performance.
“Why?” asked the teniente-mayor in surprise.
“Because the alferez and his wife have been fighting and can’t sleep.”
“Tell the alferez that we have permission from the alcalde and that against such permission no one in the town has any authority, not even the gobernadorcillo himself, and he is my only superior.”
“Well, the show must stop!” repeated the soldiers. Don Filipo turned his back and they went away. In order not to disturb the merriment he told no one about the incident.
After the selection of vaudeville, which was loudly applauded, the Prince Villardo presented himself, challenging to mortal combat the Moros who held his father prisoner. The hero threatened to cut off all their heads at a single stroke and send them to the moon, but fortunately for the Moros, who were disposing themselves for the combat, a tumult arose. The orchestra suddenly ceased playing, threw their instruments away, and jumped up on the stage. The valiant Villardo, not expecting them and taking them for allies of the Moros, dropped his sword and shield, and started to run. The Moros, seeing that such a doughty Christian was fleeing, did not consider it improper to imitate him. Cries, groans, prayers, oaths were heard, while the people ran and pushed one another about.
The lights were extinguished, blazing lamps were thrown into the air.
“Tulisanes! Tulisanes!” cried some. “Fire, fire! Robbers!” shouted others.
Women and children wept, benches and spectators were rolled together on the ground amid the general pandemonium.
The cause of all this uproar was two civil-guards, clubs in hand, chasing the musicians in order to break up the performance. The teniente-mayor, with the aid of the cuadrilleros, who were armed with old sabers, managed at length to arrest
them, in spite of their resistance.
“Take them to the town hall!” cried Don Filipo. “Take care that they don’t get away!”
Ibarra had returned to look for Maria Clara. The frightened girls clung to him pale and trembling while Aunt Isabel recited the Latin litany.
When the people were somewhat calmed down from their fright and had learned the cause of the disturbance, they were beside themselves with indignation.
