The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XXXII 156
"And now that the first stone of this important edifice is consecrated, We, alcalde-mayor of this province, in
the name of his Majesty the King, whom God preserve, King of the Spains, in the name of the illustrious
Spanish government and under the protection of its spotless and ever-victorious banner, We consecrate this
act and begin the construction of this schoolhouse! People of San Diego, long live the King! Long live Spain!
Long live the friars! Long live the Catholic Religion!"
Many voices were raised in answer, adding, "Long live the Señor Alcalde!"
He then majestically descended to the strains of the band, which began to play, deposited several trowelfuls of
mortar on the stone, and with equal majesty reascended. The employees applauded.
Ibarra offered another trowel to the curate, who, after fixing his eyes on him for a moment, descended slowly.
Half-way down the steps he raised his eyes to look at the stone, which hung fastened by the stout cables, but
this was only for a second, and he then went on down. He did the same as the alcalde, but this time more
applause was heard, for to the employees were added some friars and Capitan Tiago.
Padre Salvi then seemed to seek for some one to whom he might give the trowel. He looked doubtfully at
Maria Clara, but changing his mind, offered it to the escribano. The latter in gallantry offered it to Maria
Clara, who smilingly refused it. The friars, the employees, and the alferez went down one after another, nor
was Capitan Tiago forgotten. Ibarra only was left, and the order was about to be given for the yellowish
individual to lower the stone when the curate remembered the youth and said to him in a joking tone, with
affected familiarity:
"Aren't you going to put on your trowelful, Señor Ibarra?"
"I should be a Juan Palomo, to prepare the meal and eat it myself," answered the latter in the same tone.
"Go on!" said the alcalde, shoving him forward gently. "Otherwise, I'll order that the stone be not lowered at
all and we'll be here until doomsday."
Before such a terrible threat Ibarra had to obey. He exchanged the small silver trowel for a large iron one, an
act which caused some of the spectators to smile, and went forward tranquilly. Elias gazed at him with such
an indefinable expression that on seeing it one might have said that his whole life was concentrated in his
eyes. The yellowish individual stared into the trench, which opened at his feet. After directing a rapid glance
at the heavy stone hanging over his head and another at Elias and the yellowish individual, Ibarra said to Ñor
Juan in a somewhat unsteady voice, "Give me the mortar and get me another trowel up there."
The youth remained alone. Elias no longer looked at him, for his eyes were fastened on the hand of the
yellowish individual, who, leaning over the trench, was anxiously following the movements of Ibarra. There
was heard the noise of the trowel scraping on the stone in the midst of a feeble murmur among the employees,
who were congratulating the alcalde on his speech.
Suddenly a crash was heard. The pulley tied at the base of the derrick jumped up and after it the windlass,
which struck the heavy posts like a battering-ram. The timbers shook, the fastenings flew apart, and the whole
apparatus fell in a second with a frightful crash. A cloud of dust arose, while a cry of horror from a thousand
voices filled the air. Nearly all fled; only a few dashed toward the trench. Maria Clara and Padre Salvi
remained in their places, pale, motionless, and speechless.
When the dust had cleared away a little, they saw Ibarra standing among beams, posts, and cables, between
the windlass and the heavy stone, which in its rapid descent had shaken and crushed everything. The youth
still held the trowel in his hand and was staring with frightened eyes at the body of a man which lay at his feet
half-buried among the timbers.