The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home

CHAPTER XV 77
"A hundred and sixty."
"A hundred and sixty cuartos? A hundred and sixty times a cuarto? Goodness! And how many are a hundred
and sixty?"
"Thirty-two hands," answered the older.
Crispin looked hard at his little hands. "Thirty-two hands," he repeated, "six hands and two fingers over and
each finger thirty-two hands and each finger a cuarto--goodness, what a lot of cuartos! I could hardly count
them in three days; and with them could be bought shoes for our feet, a hat for my head when the sun shines
hot, a big umbrella for the rain, and food, and clothes for you and mother, and--" He became silent and
thoughtful again.
"Now I'm sorry that I didn't steal!" he soon exclaimed.
"Crispin!" reproached his brother.
"Don't get angry! The curate has said that he'll beat me to death if the money doesn't appear, and if I had
stolen it I could make it appear. Anyhow, if I died you and mother would at least have clothes. Oh, if I had
only stolen it!"
The elder pulled on the rope in silence. After a time he replied with a sigh: "What I'm afraid of is that mother
will scold you when she knows about it."
"Do you think so?" asked the younger with astonishment. "You will tell her that they're whipped me and I'll
show the welts on my back and my torn pocket. I had only one cuarto, which was given to me last Easter, but
the curate took that away from me yesterday. I never saw a prettier cuarto! No, mother won't believe it."
"If the curate says so--"
Crispin began to cry, murmuring between his sobs, "Then go home alone! I don't want to go. Tell mother that
I'm sick. I don't want to go."
"Crispin, don't cry!" pleaded the elder. "Mother won't believe it--don't cry! Old Tasio told us that a fine supper
is waiting for us."
"A fine supper! And I haven't eaten for a long time. They won't give me anything to eat until the two gold
pieces appear. But, if mother believes it? You must tell her that the senior sacristan is a liar but that the curate
believes him and that all of them are liars, that they say that we're thieves because our father is a vagabond
who--"
At that instant a head appeared at the top of the stairway leading down to the floor below, and that head, like
Medusa's, froze the words on the child's lips. It was a long, narrow head covered with black hair, with blue
glasses concealing the fact that one eye was sightless. The senior sacristan was accustomed to appear thus
without noise or warning of any kind. The two brothers turned cold with fear.
"On you, Basilio, I impose a fine of two reals for not ringing the bells in time," he said in a voice so hollow
that his throat seemed to lack vocal chords. "You, Crispin, must stay tonight, until what you stole reappears."
Crispin looked at his brother as if pleading for protection.
"But we already have permission--mother expects us at eight o'clock," objected Basilio timidly.