The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XLVII 218
CHAPTER XLVII
The Two Señoras
While Capitan Tiago was gambling on his lásak, Doña Victorina was taking a walk through the town for the
purpose of observing how the indolent Indians kept their houses and fields. She was dressed as elegantly as
possible with all her ribbons and flowers over her silk gown, in order to impress the provincials and make
them realize what a distance intervened between them and her sacred person. Giving her arm to her lame
husband, she strutted along the streets amid the wonder and stupefaction of the natives. Her cousin Linares
had remained in the house.
"What ugly shacks these Indians have!" she began with a grimace. "I don't see how they can live in them--one
must have to be an Indian! And how rude they are and how proud! They don't take off their hats when they
meet us! Hit them over the head as the curates and the officers of the Civil Guard do--teach them politeness!"
"And if they hit me back?" asked Dr. De Espadaña.
"That's what you're a man for!"
"B-but, I'm l-lame!"
Doña Victorina was falling into a bad humor. The streets were unpaved and the train of her gown was covered
with dust. Besides, they had met a number of young women, who, in passing them, had dropped their eyes
and had not admired her rich costume as they should have done. Sinang's cochero, who was driving Sinang
and her cousin in an elegant carriage, had the impudence to yell "Tabi!" in such a commanding tone that she
had to jump out of the way, and could only protest: "Look at that brute of a cochero! I'm going to tell his
master to train his servants better."
"Let's go back to the house," she commanded to her husband, who, fearing a storm, wheeled on his crutch in
obedience to her mandate.
They met and exchanged greetings with the alferez. This increased Doña Victorina's ill humor, for the officer
not only did not proffer any compliment on her costume, but even seemed to stare at it in a mocking way.
"You ought not to shake hands with a mere alferez," she said to her husband as the soldier left them. "He
scarcely touched his helmet while you took off your hat. You don't know how to maintain your rank!"
"He's the b-boss here!"
"What do we care for that? We are Indians, perhaps?"
"You're right," he assented, not caring to quarrel. They passed in front of the officer's dwelling. Doña
Consolacion was at the window, as usual, dressed in flannel and smoking her cigar. As the house was low, the
two señoras measured one another with looks; Doña Victorina stared while the Muse of the Civil Guard
examined her from head to foot, and then, sticking out her lower lip, turned her head away and spat on the
ground. This used up the last of Doña Victorina's patience. Leaving her husband without support, she planted
herself in front of the alfereza, trembling with anger from head to foot and unable to speak. Doña Consolacion
slowly turned her head, calmly looked her over again, and once more spat, this time with greater disdain.
"What's the matter with you, Doña?" she asked.