The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XLV 208
"It's fifteen days now since I was told of your misfortune," began the young man slowly in a low voice as he
stared at the light. "I started at once and have been seeking you from mountain to mountain. I've traveled over
nearly the whole of two provinces."
"In order not to shed innocent blood," continued the old man, "I have had to flee. My enemies were afraid to
show themselves. I was confronted merely with some unfortunates who have never done me the least harm."
After a brief pause during which he seemed to be occupied in trying to read the thoughts in the dark
countenance of the old man, Elias replied: "I've come to make a proposition to you. Having sought in vain for
some survivor of the family that caused the misfortunes of mine, I've decided to leave the province where I
live and move toward the North among the independent pagan tribes. Don't you want to abandon the life you
have entered upon and come with me? I will be your son, since you have lost your own; I have no family, and
in you will find a father."
The old man shook his, head in negation, saying, "When one at my age makes a desperate resolution, it's
because there is no other recourse. A man who, like myself, has spent his youth and his mature years toiling
for the future of himself and his sons; a man who has been submissive to every wish of his superiors, who has
conscientiously performed difficult tasks, enduring all that he might live in peace and quiet--when that man,
whose blood time has chilled, renounces all his past and foregoes all his future, even on the very brink of the
grave, it is because he has with mature judgment decided that peace does not exist and that it is not the highest
good. Why drag out miserable days on foreign soil? I had two sons, a daughter, a home, a fortune, I was
esteemed and respected; now I am as a tree shorn of its branches, a wanderer, a fugitive, hunted like a wild
beast through the forest, and all for what? Because a man dishonored my daughter, because her brothers called
that man's infamy to account, and because that man is set above his fellows with the title of minister of God!
In spite of everything, I, her father, I, dishonored in my old age, forgave the injury, for I was indulgent with
the passions of youth and the weakness of the flesh, and in the face of irreparable wrong what could I do but
hold my peace and save what remained to me? But the culprit, fearful of vengeance sooner or later, sought the
destruction of my sons. Do you know what he did? No? You don't know, then, that he pretended that there had
been a robbery committed in the convento and that one of my sons figured among the accused? The other
could not be included because he was in another place at the time. Do you know what tortures they were
subjected to? You know of them, for they are the same in all the towns! I, I saw my son hanging by the hair, I
heard his cries, I heard him call upon me, and I, coward and lover of peace, hadn't the courage either to kill or
to die! Do you know that the theft was not proved, that it was shown to be a false charge, and that in
punishment the curate was transferred to another town, but that my son died as a result of his tortures? The
other, the one who was left to me, was not a coward like his father, so our persecutor was still fearful that he
would wreak vengeance on him, and, under the pretext of his not having his cedula, [124] which he had not
carried with him just at that time, had him arrested by the Civil Guard, mistreated him, enraged and harassed
him with insults until he was driven to suicide! And I, I have outlived so much shame; but if I had not the
courage of a father to defend my sons, there yet remains to me a heart burning for revenge, and I will have it!
The discontented are gathering under my command, my enemies increase my forces, and on the day that I feel
myself strong enough I will descend to the lowlands and in flames sate my vengeance and end my own
existence. And that day will come or there is no God!" [125]
The old man arose trembling. With fiery look and hollow voice, he added, tearing his long hair, "Curses,
curses upon me that I restrained the avenging hands of my sons--I have murdered them! Had I let the guilty
perish, had I confided less in the justice of God and men, I should now have my sons--fugitives, perhaps, but I
should have them; they would not have died under torture! I was not born to be a father, so I have them not!
Curses upon me that I had not learned with my years to know the conditions under which I lived! But in fire
and blood by my own death I will avenge them!"
In his paroxysm of grief the unfortunate father tore away the bandage, reopening a wound in his forehead
from which gushed a stream of blood.