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 XVI 80<br />
Weak in character, with more heart than intellect, she knew only how to love and to weep. Her husband was a<br />
god and her sons were his angels, so he, knowing to what point he was loved and feared, conducted himself<br />
like all false gods: daily he became more cruel, more inhuman, more wilful. Once when he had appeared with<br />
his countenance gloomier than ever before, Sisa had consulted him about the plan of making a sacristan of<br />
Basilio, and he had merely continued to stroke his game-cock, saying neither yes nor no, only asking whether<br />
the boy would earn much money. She had not dared to insist, but her needy situation and her desire that the<br />
boys should learn to read and write in the town school forced her to carry out the plan. Still her husband had<br />
said nothing.<br />
That night, between ten and eleven o'clock, when the stars were glittering in a sky now cleared of all signs of<br />
the storm of the early evening, Sisa sat on a wooden bench watching some fagots that smouldered upon the<br />
fireplace fashioned of rough pieces of natural rock. Upon a tripod, or tunko, was a small pot of boiling rice<br />
and upon the red coals lay three little dried fishes such as are sold at three for two cuartos. Her chin rested in<br />
the palm of her hand while she gazed at the weak yellow glow peculiar to the cane, which burns rapidly and<br />
leaves embers that quickly grow pale. A sad smile lighted up her face as she recalled a funny riddle about the<br />
pot and the fire which Crispin had once propounded to her. <strong>The</strong> boy said: "<strong>The</strong> black man sat down and the<br />
red man looked at him, a moment passed, and cock-a-doodle-doo rang forth."<br />
Sisa was still young, and it was plain that at one time she had been pretty and attractive. Her eyes, which, like<br />
her disposition, she had given to her sons, were beautiful, with long lashes and a deep look. Her nose was<br />
regular and her pale lips curved pleasantly. She was what the Tagalogs call kayumanguing-kaligátan; that is,<br />
her color was a clear, pure brown. In spite of her youthfulness, pain and perhaps even hunger had begun to<br />
make hollow her pallid cheeks, and if her abundant hair, in other times the delight and adornment of her<br />
person, was even yet simply and neatly arranged, though without pins or combs, it was not from coquetry but<br />
from habit.<br />
Sisa had been for several days confined to the house sewing upon some work which had been ordered for the<br />
earliest possible time. In order to earn the money, she had not attended mass that morning, as it would have<br />
taken two hours at least to go to the town and return: poverty obliges one to sin! She had finished the work<br />
and delivered it but had received only a promise of payment. All that day she had been anticipating the<br />
pleasures of the evening, for she knew that her sons were coming and she had intended to make them some<br />
presents. She had bought some small fishes, picked the most beautiful tomatoes in her little garden, as she<br />
knew that Crispin was very fond of them, and begged from a neighbor, old Tasio the Sage, who lived half a<br />
mile away, some slices of dried wild boar's meat and a leg of wild duck, which Basilio especially liked. Full<br />
of hope, she had cooked the whitest of rice, which she herself had gleaned from the threshing-floors. It was<br />
indeed a curate's meal for the poor boys.<br />
But <strong>by</strong> an unfortunate chance her husband came and ate the rice, the slices of wild boar's meat, the duck leg,<br />
five of the little fishes, and the tomatoes. Sisa said nothing, although she felt as if she herself were being<br />
eaten. His hunger at length appeased, he remembered to ask for the boys. <strong>The</strong>n Sisa smiled happily and<br />
resolved that she would not eat that night, because what remained was not enough for three. <strong>The</strong> father had<br />
asked for their sons and that for her was better than eating.<br />
Soon he picked up his game-cock and started away.<br />
"Don't you want to see them?" she asked tremulously. "Old Tasio told me that they would be a little late.<br />
Crispin now knows how to read and perhaps Basilio will bring his wages."<br />
This last reason caused the husband to pause and waver, but his good angel triumphed. "In that case keep a<br />
peso for me," he said as he went away.<br />
Sisa wept bitterly, but the thought of her sons soon dried her tears. She cooked some more rice and prepared