The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XXVII 135
The houses were beginning to show lights, and in the streets where the music was moving about there were
lighted torches of bamboo and wood made in imitation of those in the church. From the streets the people in
the houses might be seen through the windows in an atmosphere of music and flowers, moving about to the
sounds of piano, harp, or orchestra. Swarming in the streets were Chinese, Spaniards, Filipinos, some dressed
in European style, some in the costumes of the country. Crowding, elbowing, and pushing one another,
walked servants carrying meat and chickens, students in white, men and women, all exposing themselves to
be knocked down by the carriages which, in spite of the drivers' cries, made their way with difficulty.
In front of Capitan Basilio's house some young women called to our acquaintances and invited them to enter.
The merry voice of Sinang as she ran down the stairs put an end to all excuses. "Come up a moment so that I
may go with you," she said. "I'm bored staying here among so many strangers who talk only of game-cocks
and cards."
They were ushered into a large room filled with people, some of whom came forward to greet Ibarra, for his
name was now well known. All gazed in ecstasy at the beauty of Maria Clara and some old women
murmured, as they chewed their buyo, "She looks like the Virgin!"
There they had to have chocolate, as Capitan Basilio had become a warm friend and defender of Ibarra since
the day of the picnic. He had learned from the half of the telegram given to his daughter Sinang that Ibarra had
known beforehand about the court's decision in the latter's favor, so, not wishing to be outdone in generosity,
he had tried to set aside the decision of the chess-match. But when Ibarra would not consent to this, he had
proposed that the money which would have been spent in court fees should be used to pay a teacher in the
new school. In consequence, the orator employed all his eloquence to the end that other litigants should give
up their extravagant claims, saying to them, "Believe me, in a lawsuit the winner is left without a camisa." But
he had succeeded in convincing no one, even though he cited the Romans.
After drinking the chocolate our young people had to listen to piano-playing by the town organist. "When I
listen to him in the church," exclaimed Sinang, pointing to the organist, "I want to dance, and now that he's
playing here I feel like praying, so I'm going out with you."
"Don't you want to join us tonight?" whispered Capitan Basilio into Ibarra's ear as they were leaving. "Padre
Damaso is going to set up a little bank." Ibarra smiled and answered with an equivocal shake of his head.
"Who's that?" asked Maria Clara of Victoria, indicating with a rapid glance a youth who was following them.
"He's--he's a cousin of mine," she answered with some agitation.
"And the other?"
"He's no cousin of mine," put in Sinang merrily. "He's my uncle's son."
They passed in front of the parish rectory, which was not one of the least animated buildings. Sinang was
unable to repress an exclamation of surprise on seeing the lamps burning, those lamps of antique pattern
which Padre Salvi had never allowed to be lighted, in order not to waste kerosene. Loud talk and resounding
bursts of laughter might be heard as the friars moved slowly about, nodding their heads in unison with the big
cigars that adorned their lips. The laymen with them, who from their European garments appeared to be
officials and employees of the province, were endeavoring to imitate whatever the good priests did. Maria
Clara made out the rotund figure of Padre Damaso at the side of the trim silhouette of Padre Sibyla.
Motionless in his place stood the silent and mysterious Fray Salvi.
"He's sad," observed Sinang, "for he's thinking about how much so many visitors are going to cost. But you'll
see how he'll not pay it himself, but the sacristans will. His visitors always eat at other places."