The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
The Social Cancer, by José Rizal - Home
Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
CHAPTER XVIII 86<br />
<strong>The</strong> flattered man smiled and continued, "It isn't so wonderful that I earn more than you do. Why, I can almost<br />
say that even when sleeping I earn indulgences."<br />
"And what do you do with them, sir?" asked four or five voices at the same time.<br />
"Pish!" answered the man with a gesture of proud disdain. "I have them to throw away!"<br />
"But in that I can't commend you, sir," protested Rufa. "You'll go to purgatory for wasting the indulgences.<br />
You know very well that for every idle word one must suffer forty days in fire, according to the curate; for<br />
every span of thread uselessly wasted, sixty days; and for every drop of water spilled, twenty. You'll go to<br />
purgatory."<br />
"Well, I'll know how to get out," answered Brother Pedro with sublime confidence. "How many souls have I<br />
saved from the flames! How many saints have I made! Besides, even in articulo mortis I can still earn, if I<br />
wish, at least seven plenary indulgences and shall be able to save others as I die." So saying, he strode proudly<br />
away.<br />
Sister Rufa turned to the others: "Nevertheless, you must do as I do, for I don't lose a single day and I keep my<br />
accounts well. I don't want to cheat or be cheated."<br />
"Well, what do you do?" asked Juana.<br />
"You must imitate what I do. For example, suppose I earn a year of indulgence: I set it down in my<br />
account-book and say, 'Most Blessed Father and Lord St. Dominic, please see if there is anybody in purgatory<br />
who needs exactly a year--neither a day more nor a day less.' <strong>The</strong>n I play heads and tails: if it comes heads,<br />
no; if tails, yes. Let's suppose that it comes tails, then I write down paid; if it comes heads, then I keep the<br />
indulgence. In this way I arrange groups of a hundred years each, of which I keep a careful account. It's a pity<br />
that we can't do with them as with money--put them out at interest, for in that way we should be able to save<br />
more souls. Believe me, and do as I do."<br />
"Well, I do it a better way," remarked Sister Sipa.<br />
"What? Better?" demanded the astonished Rufa. "That can't be! My system can't be improved upon!"<br />
"Listen a moment and you'll be convinced, Sister," said old Sipa in a tone of vexation.<br />
"How is it? Let's hear!" exclaimed the others.<br />
After coughing ceremoniously the old woman began with great care: "You know very well that <strong>by</strong> saying the<br />
Bendita sea tu pureza and the Señor mío Jesucristo, Padre dulcísimo por el gozo, ten years are gained for<br />
each letter--"<br />
"Twenty!" "No, less!" "Five!" interrupted several voices.<br />
"A few years more or less make no difference. Now, when a servant breaks a plate, a glass, or a cup, I make<br />
him pick up the pieces; and for every scrap, even the very smallest, he has to recite for me one of those<br />
prayers. <strong>The</strong> indulgences that I earn in this way I devote to the souls. Every one in my house, except the cats,<br />
understands this system."<br />
"But those indulgences are earned <strong>by</strong> the servants and not <strong>by</strong> you, Sister Sipa," objected Rufa.<br />
"And my cups and plates, who pays for them? <strong>The</strong> servants are glad to pay for them in that way and it suits