The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER LVI 254
"The Chinamen!" echoed all in great astonishment. "That's why not one of them is to be seen!" "They've
probably killed them all!"
"I thought they were going to do something bad. Yesterday--"
"I saw it myself. Last night--"
"What a pity!" exclaimed Sister Rufa. "To get killed just before Christmas when they bring around their
presents! They should have waited until New Year's."
Little by little the street awoke to life. Dogs, chickens, pigs, and doves began the movement, and these
animals were soon followed by some ragged urchins who held fast to each other's arms as they timidly
approached the barracks. Then a few old women with handkerchiefs tied about their heads and fastened under
their chins appeared with thick rosaries in their hands, pretending to be at their prayers so that the soldiers
would let them pass. When it was seen that one might walk about without being shot at, the men began to
come out with assumed airs of indifference. First they limited their steps to the neighborhood of their houses,
caressing their game-cocks, then they extended their stroll, stopping from time to time, until at last they stood
in front of the town hall.
In a quarter of an hour other versions of the affair were in circulation. Ibarra with his servants had tried to
kidnap Maria Clara, and Capitan Tiago had defended her, aided by the Civil Guard. The number of killed was
now not fourteen but thirty. Capitan Tiago was wounded and would leave that very day with his family for
Manila.
The arrival of two cuadrilleros carrying a human form on a covered stretcher and followed by a civil-guard
produced a great sensation. It was conjectured that they came from the convento, and, from the shape of the
feet, which were dangling over one end, some guessed who the dead man might be, some one else a little
distance away told who it was; further on the corpse was multiplied and the mystery of the Holy Trinity
duplicated, later the miracle of the loaves and fishes was repeated--and the dead were then thirty and eight.
By half-past seven, when other guards arrived from neighboring towns, the current version was clear and
detailed. "I've just come from the town hall, where I've seen Don Filipo and Don Crisostomo prisoners," a
man told Sister Puté. "I've talked with one of the cuadrilleros who are on guard. Well, Bruno, the son of that
fellow who was flogged to death, confessed everything last night. As you know, Capitan Tiago is going to
marry his daughter to the young Spaniard, so Don Crisostomo in his rage wanted to get revenge and tried to
kill all the Spaniards, even the curate. Last night they attacked the barracks and the convento, but fortunately,
by God's mercy, the curate was in Capitan Tiago's house. They say that a lot of them escaped. The
civil-guards burned Don Crisostomo's house down, and if they hadn't arrested him first they would have
burned him also."
"They burned the house down?"
"All the servants are under arrest. Look, you can still see the smoke from here!" answered the narrator,
approaching the window. "Those who come from there tell of many sad things."
All looked toward the place indicated. A thin column of smoke was still slowly rising toward the sky. All
made comments, more or less pitying, more or less accusing.
"Poor youth!" exclaimed an old man, Puté's husband.
"Yes," she answered, "but look how he didn't order a mass said for the soul of his father, who undoubtedly
needs it more than others."