The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
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CHAPTER XXXIX 182<br />
CHAPTER XXXIX<br />
Doña Consolacion<br />
Why were the windows closed in the house of the alferez? Where were the masculine features and the flannel<br />
camisa of the Medusa or Muse of the Civil Guard while the procession was passing? Had Doña Consolacion<br />
realized how disagreeable were her forehead seamed with thick veins that appeared to conduct not blood but<br />
vinegar and gall, and the thick cigar that made a fit ornament for her purple lips, and her envious leer, and<br />
yielding to a generous impulse had she wished not to disturb the pleasure of the populace <strong>by</strong> her sinister<br />
appearance? Ah, for her generous impulses existed in the Golden Age! <strong>The</strong> house, showed neither lanterns nor<br />
banners and was gloomy precisely because the town was making merry, as Sinang said, and but for the<br />
sentinel walking before the door appeared to be uninhabited.<br />
A dim light shone in the disordered sala, rendering transparent the dirty concha-panes on which the cobwebs<br />
had fastened and the dust had become incrusted. <strong>The</strong> lady of the house, according to her indolent custom, was<br />
dozing on a wide sofa. She was dressed as usual, that is, badly and horribly: tied round her head a pañuelo,<br />
from beneath which escaped thin locks of tangled hair, a camisa of blue flannel over another which must once<br />
have been white, and a faded skirt which showed the outlines of her thin, flat thighs, placed one over the other<br />
and shaking feverishly. From her mouth issued little clouds of smoke which she puffed wearily in whatever<br />
direction she happened to be looking when she opened her eyes. If at that moment Don Francisco de<br />
Cañamaque [107] could have seen her, he would have taken her for a cacique of the town or the mankukúlam,<br />
and then decorated his discovery with commentaries in the vernacular of the markets, invented <strong>by</strong> him for her<br />
particular use.<br />
That morning she had not attended mass, not because she had not so desired, for on the contrary she had<br />
wished to show herself to the multitude and to hear the sermon, but her spouse had not permitted her to do so,<br />
his refusal being accompanied as usual <strong>by</strong> two or three insults, oaths, and threats of kicking. <strong>The</strong> alferez knew<br />
that his mate dressed ridiculously and had the appearance of what is known as a "querida of the soldiers," so<br />
he did not care to expose her to the gaze of strangers and persons from the capital. But she did not so<br />
understand it. She knew that she was beautiful and attractive, that she had the airs of a queen and dressed<br />
much better and with more splendor than Maria Clara herself, who wore a tapis while she went in a flowing<br />
skirt. It was therefore necessary for the alferez to threaten her, "Either shut up, or I'll kick you back to your<br />
damned town!" Doña Consolacion did not care to return to her town at the toe of a boot, but she meditated<br />
revenge.<br />
Never had the dark face of this lady been such as to inspire confidence in any one, not even when she painted,<br />
but that morning it greatly worried the servants, especially when they saw her move about the house from one<br />
part to another, silently, as if meditating something terrible or malign. Her glance reflected the look that<br />
springs from the eyes of a serpent when caught and about to be crushed; it was cold, luminous, and<br />
penetrating, with something fascinating, loathsome, and cruel in it. <strong>The</strong> most insignificant error, the least<br />
unusual noise, drew from her a vile insult that struck into the soul, but no one answered her, for to excuse<br />
oneself would have been an additional fault.<br />
So the day passed. Not encountering any obstacle that would block her way,--her husband had been invited<br />
out,--she became saturated with bile, the cells of her whole organism seemed to become charged with<br />
electricity which threatened to burst in a storm of hate. Everything about her folded up as do the flowers at the<br />
first breath of the hurricane, so she met with no resistance nor found any point or high place to discharge her<br />
evil humor. <strong>The</strong> soldiers and servants kept away from her. That she might not hear the sounds of rejoicing<br />
outside she had ordered the windows closed and charged the sentinel to let no one enter. She tied a<br />
handkerchief around her head as if to keep it from bursting and, in spite of the fact that the sun was still<br />
shining, ordered the lamps to be lighted.