The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
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CHAPTER LVII 258<br />
CHAPTER LVII<br />
Vae Victis!<br />
Mi gozo en un pozo.<br />
Guards with forbidding mien paced to and fro in front of the door of the town hall, threatening with their<br />
rifle-butts the bold urchins who rose on tiptoe or climbed up on one another to see through the bars.<br />
<strong>The</strong> hall itself did not present that agreeable aspect it wore when the program of the fiesta was under<br />
discussion--now it was gloomy and rather ominous. <strong>The</strong> civil-guards and cuadrilleros who occupied it<br />
scarcely spoke and then with few words in low tones. At the table the directorcillo, two clerks, and several<br />
soldiers were rustling papers, while the alferez strode from one side to the other, at times gazing fiercely<br />
toward the door: prouder <strong>The</strong>mistocles could not have appeared in the Olympic games after the battle of<br />
Salamis. Doña Consolacion yawned in a corner, exhibiting a dirty mouth and jagged teeth, while she fixed her<br />
cold, sinister gaze on the door of the jail, which was covered with indecent drawings. She had succeeded in<br />
persuading her husband, whose victory had made him amiable, to let her witness the inquiry and perhaps the<br />
accompanying tortures. <strong>The</strong> hyena smelt the carrion and licked herself, wearied <strong>by</strong> the delay.<br />
<strong>The</strong> gobernadorcillo was very compunctious. His seat, that large chair placed under his Majesty's portrait, was<br />
vacant, being apparently intended for some one else. About nine o'clock the curate arrived, pale and scowling.<br />
"Well, you haven't kept yourself waiting!" the alferez greeted him.<br />
"I should prefer not to be present," replied Padre Salvi in a low voice, paying no heed to the bitter tone of the<br />
alferez. "I'm very nervous."<br />
"As no one else has come to fill the place, I judged that your presence--You know that they leave this<br />
afternoon."<br />
"Young Ibarra and the teniente-mayor?"<br />
<strong>The</strong> alferez pointed toward the jail. "<strong>The</strong>re are eight there," he said. "Bruno died at midnight, but his statement<br />
is on record."<br />
<strong>The</strong> curate saluted Doña Consolacion, who responded with a yawn, and took his seat in the big chair under his<br />
Majesty's portrait. "Let us begin," he announced.<br />
"Bring out those two who are in the stocks," ordered the alferez in a tone that he tried to make as terrible as<br />
possible. <strong>The</strong>n turning to the curate he added with a change of tone, "<strong>The</strong>y are fastened in <strong>by</strong> skipping two<br />
holes."<br />
For the benefit of those who are not informed about these instruments of torture, we will say that the stocks<br />
are one of the most harmless. <strong>The</strong> holes in which the offender's legs are placed are a little more or less than a<br />
foot apart; <strong>by</strong> skipping two holes, the prisoner finds himself in a rather forced position with peculiar<br />
inconvenience to his ankles and a distance of about a yard between his lower extremities. It does not kill<br />
instantaneously, as may well be imagined.<br />
<strong>The</strong> jailer, followed <strong>by</strong> four soldiers, pushed back the bolt and opened the door. A nauseating odor and<br />
currents of thick, damp air escaped from the darkness within at the same time that laments and sighs were<br />
heard. A soldier struck a match, but the flame was choked in such a foul atmosphere, and they had to wait<br />
until the air became fresher.