The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER VII 51
"Could I forget you? The thought of you has ever been with me, strengthening me amid the dangers of travel,
and has been a comfort to my soul's loneliness in foreign lands. The thoughts of you have neutralized the
lotus-effect of Europe, which erases from the memories of so many of our countrymen the hopes and
misfortunes of our fatherland. In dreams I saw you standing on the shore at Manila, gazing at the far horizon
wrapped in the warm light of the early dawn. I heard the slow, sad song that awoke in me sleeping affections
and called back to the memory of my heart the first years of our childhood, our joys, our pleasures, and all that
happy past which you gave life to while you were in our town. It seemed to me that you were the fairy, the
spirit, the poetic incarnation of my fatherland, beautiful, unaffected, lovable, frank, a true daughter of the
Philippines, that beautiful land which unites with the imposing virtues of the mother country, Spain, the
admirable qualities of a young people, as you unite in your being all that is beautiful and lovely, the
inheritance of both races" so indeed the love of you and that of my fatherland have become fused into one.
"Could I forget you? Many times have I thought that I heard the sound of your piano and the accents of your
voice. When in Germany, as I wandered at twilight in the woods, peopled with the fantastic creations of its
poets and the mysterious legends of past generations, always I called upon your name, imagining that I saw
you in the mists that rose from the depths of the valley, or I fancied that I heard your voice in the rustling of
the leaves. When from afar I heard the songs of the peasants as they returned from their labors, it seemed to
me that their tones harmonized with my inner voices, that they were singing for you, and thus they lent reality
to my illusions and dreams. At times I became lost among the mountain paths and while the night descended
slowly, as it does there, I would find myself still wandering, seeking my way among the pines and beeches
and oaks. Then when some scattering rays of moonlight slipped down into the clear spaces left in the dense
foliage, I seemed to see you in the heart of the forest as a dim, loving shade wavering about between the spots
of light and shadow. If perhaps the nightingale poured forth his varied trills, I fancied it was because he saw
you and was inspired by you.
"Have I thought of you? The fever of love not only gave warmth to the snows but colored the ice! The
beautiful skies of Italy with their clear depths reminded me of your eyes, its sunny landscape spoke to me of
your smile; the plains of Andalusia with their scent-laden airs, peopled with oriental memories, full of
romance and color, told me of your love! On dreamy, moonlit nights, while boating oil the Rhine, I have
asked myself if my fancy did not deceive me as I saw you among the poplars on the banks, on the rocks of the
Lorelei, or in the midst of the waters, singing in the silence of the night as if you were a comforting fairy
maiden sent to enliven the solitude and sadness of those ruined castles!"
"I have not traveled like you, so I know only your town and Manila and Antipolo," she answered with a smile
which showed that she believed all he said. "But since I said good-by to you and entered the convent, I have
always thought of you and have only put you out of my mind when ordered to do so by my confessor, who
imposed many penances upon me. I recalled our games and our quarrels when we were children. You used to
pick up the most beautiful shells and search in the river for the roundest and smoothest pebbles of different
colors that we might play games with them. You were very stupid and always lost, and by way of a forfeit I
would slap you with the palm of my hand, but I always tried not to strike you hard, for I had pity on you. In
those games you cheated much, even more than I did, and we used to finish our play in a quarrel. Do you
remember that time when you became really angry at me? Then you made me suffer, but afterwards, when I
thought of it in the convent, I smiled and longed for you so that we might quarrel again--so that we might
once more make up. We were still children and had gone with your mother to bathe in the brook under the
shade of the thick bamboo. On the banks grew many flowers and plants whose strange names you told me in
Latin and Spanish, for you were even then studying in the Ateneo. [44] I paid no attention, but amused myself
by running after the needle-like dragon-flies and the butterflies with their rainbow colors and tints of
mother-of-pearl as they swarmed about among the flowers. Sometimes I tried to surprise them with my hands
or to catch the little fishes that slipped rapidly about amongst the moss and stones in the edge of the water.
Once you disappeared suddenly and when you returned you brought a crown of leaves and orange blossoms,
which you placed upon my head, calling me Chloe. For yourself you made one of vines. But your mother
snatched away my crown, and after mashing it with a stone mixed it with the gogo with which she was going