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 VII 49<br />
CHAPTER VII<br />
An Idyl on an Azotea<br />
<strong>The</strong> Song of Songs, which is Solomon's.<br />
That morning Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara went early to mass, the latter elegantly dressed and wearing a<br />
rosary of blue beads, which partly served as a bracelet for her, and the former with her spectacles in order to<br />
read her Anchor of Salvation during the holy communion. Scarcely had the priest disappeared from the altar<br />
when the maiden expressed a desire for returning home, to the great surprise and displeasure of her good aunt,<br />
who believed her niece to be as pious and devoted to praying as a nun, at least. Grumbling and crossing<br />
herself, the good old lady rose. "<strong>The</strong> good Lord will forgive me, Aunt Isabel, since He must know the hearts<br />
of girls better than you do," Maria Clara might have said to check the severe yet maternal chidings.<br />
After they had breakfasted, Maria Clara consumed her impatience in working at a silk purse while her aunt<br />
was trying to clean up the traces of the former night's revelry <strong>by</strong> swinging a feather duster about. Capitan<br />
Tiago was busy looking over some papers. Every noise in the street, every carriage that passed, caused the<br />
maiden to tremble and quickened the beatings of her heart. Now she wished that she were back in the quiet<br />
convent among her friends; there she could have seen him without emotion and agitation! But was he not the<br />
companion of her infancy, had they not played together and even quarreled at times? <strong>The</strong> reason for all this I<br />
need not explain; if you, O reader, have ever loved, you will understand; and if you have not, it is useless for<br />
me to tell you, as the uninitiated do not comprehend these mysteries.<br />
"I believe, Maria, that the doctor is right," said Capitan Tiago. "You ought to go into the country, for you are<br />
pale and need fresh air. What do you think of Malabon or San Diego?" At the mention of the latter place<br />
Maria Clara blushed like a poppy and was unable to answer.<br />
"You and Isabel can go at once to the convent to get your clothes and to say good-<strong>by</strong> to your friends," he<br />
continued, without raising his head. "You will not stay there any longer."<br />
<strong>The</strong> girl felt the vague sadness that possesses the mind when we leave forever a place where we have been<br />
happy, but another thought softened this sorrow.<br />
"In four or five days, after you get some new clothes made, we'll go to Malabon. Your godfather is no longer<br />
in San Diego. <strong>The</strong> priest that you may have noticed here last night, that young padre, is the new curate whom<br />
we have there, and he is a saint."<br />
"I think that San Diego would be better, cousin," observed Aunt Isabel. "Besides, our house there is better and<br />
the time for the fiesta draws near."<br />
Maria Clara wanted to embrace her aunt for this speech, but hearing a carriage stop, she turned pale.<br />
"Ah, very true," answered Capitan Tiago, and then in a different tone he exclaimed, "Don Crisostomo!"<br />
<strong>The</strong> maiden let her sewing fall from her hands and wished to move but could not--a violent tremor ran through<br />
her body. Steps were heard on the stairway and then a fresh, manly voice. As if that voice had some magic<br />
power, the maiden controlled her emotion and ran to hide in the oratory among the saints. <strong>The</strong> two cousins<br />
laughed, and Ibarra even heard the noise of the door closing. Pale and breathing rapidly, the maiden pressed<br />
her beating heart and tried to listen. She heard his voice, that beloved voice that for so long a time she had<br />
heard only in her dreams he was asking for her! Overcome with joy, she kissed the nearest saint, which<br />
happened to be St. Anthony the Abbot, a saint happy in flesh and in wood, ever the object of pleasing<br />
temptations! Afterwards she sought the keyhole in order to see and examine him. She smiled, and when her