The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER L 231
returned. He found her stretched out on the ground under a cotton-tree beside the highway, her face turned
toward the sky, her eyes fixed and staring, her clenched hands buried in the blood-stained earth. Some impulse
moved him to look up in the direction toward which the eyes of the dead woman were staring, and he saw
hanging from a branch a basket and in the basket the gory head of his brother!"
"My God!" ejaculated Ibarra.
"That might have been the exclamation of my father," continued Elias coldly. "The body of the brigand had
been cut up and the trunk buried, but his limbs were distributed and hung up in different towns. If ever you go
from Kalamba to Santo Tomas you will still see a withered lomboy-tree where one of my uncle's legs hung
rotting--nature has blasted the tree so that it no longer grows or bears fruit. The same was done with the other
limbs, but the head, as the best part of the person and the portion most easily recognizable, was hung up in
front of his mother's hut!"
Ibarra bowed his head.
"The boy fled like one accursed," Elias went on. "He fled from town to town by mountain and valley. When
he thought that he had reached a place where he was not known, he hired himself out as a laborer in the house
of a rich man in the province of Tayabas. His activity and the gentleness of his character gained him the
good-will of all who did not know his past, and by his thrift and economy he succeeded in accumulating a
little capital. He was still young, he thought his sorrows buried in the past, and he dreamed of a happy future.
His pleasant appearance, his youth, and his somewhat unfortunate condition won him the love of a young
woman of the town, but he dared not ask for her hand from fear that his past might become known. But love is
stronger than anything else and they wandered from the straight path, so, to save the woman's honor, he risked
everything by asking for her in marriage. The records were sought and his whole past became known. The
girl's father was rich and succeeded in having him prosecuted. He did not try to defend himself but admitted
everything, and so was sent to prison. The woman gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, who were nurtured in
secret and made to believe that their father was dead no difficult matter, since at a tender age they saw their
mother die, and they gave little thought to tracing genealogies. As our maternal grandfather was rich our
childhood passed happily. My sister and I were brought up together, loving one another as only twins can love
when they have no other affections. When quite young I was sent to study in the Jesuit College, and my sister,
in order that we might not be completely separated, entered the Concordia College. [135] After our brief
education was finished, since we desired only to be farmers, we returned to the town to take possession of the
inheritance left us by our grandfather. We lived happily for a time, the future smiled on us, we had many
servants, our' fields produced abundant harvests, and my sister was about to be married to a young man whom
she adored and who responded equally to her affection.
"But in a dispute over money and by reason of my haughty disposition at that time, I alienated the good will
of a distant relative, and one day he east in my face my doubtful birth and shameful descent. I thought it all a
slander and demanded satisfaction. The tomb which covered so much rottenness was again opened and to my
consternation the whole truth came out to overwhelm me. To add to our sorrow, we had had for many years an
old servant who had endured all my whims without ever leaving us, contenting himself merely with weeping
and groaning at the rough jests of the other servants. I don't know how my relative had found it out, but the
fact is that he had this old man summoned into court and made him tell the truth: that old servant, who had
clung to his beloved children, and whom I had abused many times, was my father! Our happiness faded away,
I gave up our fortune, my sister lost her betrothed, and with our father we left the town to seek refuge
elsewhere. The thought that he had contributed to our misfortunes shortened the old man's days, but before he
died I learned from his lips the whole story of the sorrowful past.
"My sister and I were left alone. She wept a great deal, but even in the midst of such great sorrows as heaped
themselves upon us, she could not forget her love. Without complaining, without uttering a word, she saw her
former sweetheart married to another girl, but I watched her gradually sicken without being able to console