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CHAPTER XXXIV 166 "Well, I don't know anything about architecture," interrupted Padre Damaso, "but I laugh at architects and the fools who employ them. Here you have it--I drew the plan of this church and it's perfectly constructed, so an English jeweler who stopped in the convento one day assured me. To draw a plan one needs only to have two fingers' breadth of forehead." "Nevertheless," answered the alcalde, seeing that Ibarra was silent, "when we consider certain buildings, as, for example, this schoolhouse, we need an expert." "Get out with your experts!" exclaimed the priest with a sneer. "Only a fool needs experts! One must be more of a brute than the Indians, who build their own houses, not to know how to construct four walls and put a roof on top of them. That's all a schoolhouse is!" The guests gazed at Ibarra, who had turned pale, but he continued as if in conversation with Maria Clara. "But your Reverence should consider--" "See now," went on the Franciscan, not allowing the alcalde to continue, "look how one of our lay brothers, the most stupid that we have, has constructed a hospital, good, pretty, and cheap. He made them work hard and paid only eight cuartos a day even to those who had to come from other towns. He knew how to handle them, not like a lot of cranks and little mestizos who are spoiling them by paying three or four reals." "Does your Reverence say that he paid only eight cuartos? Impossible!" The alcalde was trying to change the course of the conversation. "Yes, sir, and those who pride themselves on being good Spaniards ought to imitate him. You see now, since the Suez Canal was opened, the corruption that has come in here. Formerly, when we had to double the Cape, neither so many vagabonds came here nor so many others went from here to become vagabonds." "But, Padre Damaso--" "You know well enough what the Indian is--just as soon as he gets a little learning he sets himself up as a doctor! All these little fellows that go to Europe--" "But, listen, your Reverence!" interrupted the alcalde, who was becoming nervous over the aggressiveness of such talk. "Every one ends up as he deserves," the friar continued. "The hand of God is manifest in the midst of it all, and one must be blind not to see it. Even in this life the fathers of such vipers receive their punishment, they die in jail ha, ha! As we might say, they have nowhere--" But he did not finish the sentence. Ibarra, livid, had been following him with his gaze and upon hearing this allusion to his father jumped up and dropped a heavy hand on the priest's head, so that he fell back stunned. The company was so filled with surprise and fright that no one made any movement to interfere. "Keep off!" cried the youth in a terrible voice, as he caught up a sharp knife and placed his foot on the neck of the friar, who was recovering from the shock of his fall. "Let him who values his life keep away!" The youth was beside himself. His whole body trembled and his eyes rolled threateningly in their sockets. Fray Damaso arose with an effort, but the youth caught him by the neck and shook him until he again fell doubled over on his knees. "Señor Ibarra! Señor Ibarra!" stammered some. But no one, not even the alferez himself, dared to approach

CHAPTER XXXIV 167 the gleaming knife, when they considered the youth's strength and the condition of his mind. All seemed to be paralyzed. "You, here! You have been silent, now it is my turn! I have tried to avoid this, but God brings me to it--let God be the judge!" The youth was breathing laboriously, but with a hand of iron he held down the Franciscan, who was struggling vainly to free himself. "My heart beats tranquilly, my hand is sure," he began, looking around him. "First, is there one among you, one who has not loved his father, who was born in such shame and humiliation that he hates his memory? You see? You understand this silence? Priest of a God of peace, with your mouth full of sanctity and religion and your heart full of evil, you cannot know what a father is, or you might have thought of your own! In all this crowd which you despise there is not one like you! You are condemned!" The persons surrounding him, thinking that he was about to commit murder, made a movement. "Away!" he cried again in a threatening voice. "What, do you fear that I shall stain my hands with impure blood? Have I not told you that my heart beats tranquilly? Away from us! Listen, priests and judges, you who think yourselves other men and attribute to yourselves other rights: my father was an honorable man,--ask these people here, who venerate his memory. My father was a good citizen and he sacrificed himself for me and for the good of his country. His house was open and his table was set for the stranger and the outcast who came to him in distress! He was a Christian who always did good and who never oppressed the unprotected or afflicted those in trouble. To this man here he opened his doors, he made him sit at his table and called him his friend. And how has this man repaid him? He calumniated him, persecuted him, raised up against him all the ignorant by availing himself of the sanctity of his position; he outraged his tomb, dishonored his memory, and persecuted him even in the sleep of death! Not satisfied with this, he persecutes the son now! I have fled from him, I have avoided his presence. You this morning heard him profane the pulpit, pointing me out to popular fanaticism, and I held my peace! Now he comes here to seek a quarrel with me. To your surprise, I have suffered in silence, but he again insults the most sacred memory that there is for a son. You who are here, priests and judges, have you seen your aged father wear himself out working for you, separating himself from you for your welfare, have you seen him die of sorrow in a prison sighing for your embrace, seeking some one to comfort him, alone, sick, when you were in a foreign land? Have you afterwards heard his name dishonored, have you found his tomb empty when you went to pray beside it? No? You are silent, you condemn him!" He raised his hand, but with the swiftness of light a girlish form put itself between them and delicate fingers restrained the avenging arm. It was Maria Clara. Ibarra stared at her with a look that seemed to reflect madness. Slowly his clenched fingers relaxed, letting fall the body of the Franciscan and the knife. Covering his face, he fled through the crowd.

CHAPTER XXXIV 166<br />

"Well, I don't know anything about architecture," interrupted Padre Damaso, "but I laugh at architects and the<br />

fools who employ them. Here you have it--I drew the plan of this church and it's perfectly constructed, so an<br />

English jeweler who stopped in the convento one day assured me. To draw a plan one needs only to have two<br />

fingers' breadth of forehead."<br />

"Nevertheless," answered the alcalde, seeing that Ibarra was silent, "when we consider certain buildings, as,<br />

for example, this schoolhouse, we need an expert."<br />

"Get out with your experts!" exclaimed the priest with a sneer. "Only a fool needs experts! One must be more<br />

of a brute than the Indians, who build their own houses, not to know how to construct four walls and put a<br />

roof on top of them. That's all a schoolhouse is!"<br />

<strong>The</strong> guests gazed at Ibarra, who had turned pale, but he continued as if in conversation with Maria Clara.<br />

"But your Reverence should consider--"<br />

"See now," went on the Franciscan, not allowing the alcalde to continue, "look how one of our lay brothers,<br />

the most stupid that we have, has constructed a hospital, good, pretty, and cheap. He made them work hard<br />

and paid only eight cuartos a day even to those who had to come from other towns. He knew how to handle<br />

them, not like a lot of cranks and little mestizos who are spoiling them <strong>by</strong> paying three or four reals."<br />

"Does your Reverence say that he paid only eight cuartos? Impossible!" <strong>The</strong> alcalde was trying to change the<br />

course of the conversation.<br />

"Yes, sir, and those who pride themselves on being good Spaniards ought to imitate him. You see now, since<br />

the Suez Canal was opened, the corruption that has come in here. Formerly, when we had to double the Cape,<br />

neither so many vagabonds came here nor so many others went from here to become vagabonds."<br />

"But, Padre Damaso--"<br />

"You know well enough what the Indian is--just as soon as he gets a little learning he sets himself up as a<br />

doctor! All these little fellows that go to Europe--"<br />

"But, listen, your Reverence!" interrupted the alcalde, who was becoming nervous over the aggressiveness of<br />

such talk.<br />

"Every one ends up as he deserves," the friar continued. "<strong>The</strong> hand of God is manifest in the midst of it all,<br />

and one must be blind not to see it. Even in this life the fathers of such vipers receive their punishment, they<br />

die in jail ha, ha! As we might say, they have nowhere--"<br />

But he did not finish the sentence. Ibarra, livid, had been following him with his gaze and upon hearing this<br />

allusion to his father jumped up and dropped a heavy hand on the priest's head, so that he fell back stunned.<br />

<strong>The</strong> company was so filled with surprise and fright that no one made any movement to interfere.<br />

"Keep off!" cried the youth in a terrible voice, as he caught up a sharp knife and placed his foot on the neck of<br />

the friar, who was recovering from the shock of his fall. "Let him who values his life keep away!"<br />

<strong>The</strong> youth was beside himself. His whole body trembled and his eyes rolled threateningly in their sockets.<br />

Fray Damaso arose with an effort, but the youth caught him <strong>by</strong> the neck and shook him until he again fell<br />

doubled over on his knees.<br />

"Señor Ibarra! Señor Ibarra!" stammered some. But no one, not even the alferez himself, dared to approach

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