The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER LV 251
town, from the light--even the moon so troubled him that he plunged into the mysterious shadows of the trees.
There, sometimes pausing, sometimes moving along unfrequented paths, supporting himself on the hoary
trunks or being entangled in the undergrowth, he gazed toward the town, which, bathed in the light of the
moon, spread out before him on the plain along the shore of the lake. Birds awakened from their sleep flew
about, huge bats and owls moved from branch to branch with strident cries and gazed at him with their round
eyes, but Elias neither heard nor heeded them. In his fancy he was followed by the offended shades of his
family, he saw on every branch the gruesome basket containing Balat's gory head, as his father had described
it to him; at every tree he seemed to stumble over the corpse of his grandmother; he imagined that he saw the
rotting skeleton of his dishonored grandfather swinging among the shadows--and the skeleton and the corpse
and the gory head cried after him, "Coward! Coward!"
Leaving the hill, Elias descended to the lake and ran along the shore excitedly. There at a distance in the midst
of the waters, where the moonlight seemed to form a cloud, he thought he could see a specter rise and soar the
shade of his sister with her breast bloody and her loose hair streaming about. He fell to his knees on the sand
and extending his arms cried out, "You, too!"
Then with his gaze fixed on the cloud he arose slowly and went forward into the water as if he were following
some one. He passed over the gentle slope that forms the bar and was soon far from the shore. The water rose
to his waist, but he plunged on like one fascinated, following, ever following, the ghostly charmer. Now the
water covered his chest--a volley of rifle-shots sounded, the vision disappeared, the youth returned to his
senses. In the stillness of the night and the greater density of the air the reports reached him clearly and
distinctly. He stopped to reflect and found himself in the water--over the peaceful ripples of the lake he could
still make out the lights in the fishermen's huts.
He returned to the shore and started toward the town, but for what purpose he himself knew not. The streets
appeared to be deserted, the houses were closed, and even the dogs that were wont to bark through the night
had hidden themselves in fear. The silvery light of the moon added to the sadness and loneliness.
Fearful of meeting the civil-guards, he made his way along through yards and gardens, in one of which he
thought he could discern two human figures, but he kept on his way, leaping over fences and walls, until after
great labor he reached the other end of the town and went toward Crisostomo's house. In the doorway were
the servants, lamenting their master's arrest.
After learning about what had occurred Elias pretended to go away, but really went around behind the house,
jumped over the wall, and crawled through a window into the study where the candle that Ibarra had lighted
was still burning. He saw the books and papers and found the arms, the jewels, and the sacks of money.
Reconstructing in his imagination the scene that had taken place there and seeing so many papers that might
be of a compromising nature, he decided to gather them up, throw them from the window, and bury them.
But, on glancing toward the street, he saw two guards approaching, their bayonets and caps gleaming in the
moonlight. With them was the directorcillo. He made a sudden resolution: throwing the papers and some
clothing into a heap in the center of the room, he poured over them the oil from a lamp and set fire to the
whole. He was hurriedly placing the arms in his belt when he caught sight of the portrait of Maria Clara and
hesitated a moment, then thrust it into one of the sacks and with them in his hands leaped from the window
into the garden.
It was time that he did so, too, for the guards were forcing an entrance. "Let us in to get your master's papers!"
cried the directorcillo.
"Have you permission? If you haven't, you won't get in,'" answered an old man.
But the soldiers pushed him aside with the butts of their rifles and ran up the stairway, just as a thick cloud of