The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XLVI 213
of which has a history and a well-earned reputation. All wish to see and examine the two celebrities, opinions
are offered, prophecies are made.
Meanwhile, the murmur of the voices grows, the confusion increases, the Rueda is broken into, the seats are
filled. The skilled attendants carry the two cocks into the arena, a white and a red, already armed but with the
gaffs still sheathed. Cries are heard, "On the white!" "On the white!" while some other voice answers, "On the
red!" The odds are on the white, he is the favorite; the red is the "outsider," the dejado.
Members of the Civil Guard move about in the crowd. They are not dressed in the uniform of that meritorious
corps, but neither are they in civilian costume. Trousers of guingón with a red stripe, a camisa stained blue
from the faded blouse, and a service-cap, make up their costume, in keeping with their deportment; they make
bets and keep watch, they raise disturbances and talk of keeping the peace.
While the spectators are yelling, waving their hands, flourishing and clinking pieces of silver; while they
search in their pockets for the last coin, or, in the lack of such, try to pledge their word, promising to sell the
carabao or the next crop, two boys, brothers apparently, follow the bettors with wistful eyes, loiter about,
murmur timid words to which no one listens, become more and more gloomy and gaze at one another
ill-humoredly and dejectedly. Lucas watches them covertly, smiles malignantly, jingles his silver, passes close
to them, and gazing into the Rueda, cries out:
"Fifty, fifty to twenty on the white!"
The two brothers exchange glances.
"I told you," muttered the elder, "that you shouldn't have put up all the money. If you had listened to me we
should now have something to bet on the red."
The younger timidly approached Lucas and touched him on the arm.
"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed the latter, turning around with feigned surprise. "Does your brother accept my
proposition or do you want to bet?"
"How can we bet when we've lost everything?"
"Then you accept?"
"He doesn't want to! If you would lend us something, now that you say you know us--"
Lucas scratched his head, pulled at his camisa, and replied, "Yes, I know you. You are Tarsilo and Bruno,
both young and strong. I know that your brave father died as a result of the hundred lashes a day those soldiers
gave him. I know that you don't think of revenging him."
"Don't meddle in our affairs!" broke in Tarsilo, the elder. "That might lead to trouble. If it were not that we
have a sister, we should have been hanged long ago."
"Hanged? They only hang a coward, one who has no money or influence. And at all events the mountains are
near."
"A hundred to twenty on the white!" cried a passer-by.
"Lend us four pesos, three, two," begged the younger.