Captain Tiago was very happy. During all this terrible time nobody had busied himself with him. They had not arrested him, nor had they submitted him to excommunications, court trials, electrical machines, continual hot foot baths in subterranean places, or to any of the other punishments which are well known to certain people who call themselves civilized. He had returned to his Manila house. Those who had been the Captain’s friends—for he had renounced all his Filipino friends from the moment that they were suspected by the Government—had also returned to their homes after some days of vacation spent in the Government buildings. The Governor General had himself ordered these people to leave their possessions, for he had not thought it fitting that they should remain in them during the great danger.  
Captain Tiago was overflowing with gratitude, but he did not know exactly to whom he was indebted for such signal favors. Aunt Isabel attributed the miracle to the Virgin of Antipolo, to the Virgin of the Rosary, or at least to the Virgin of Carmen. The least that she would concede was that it was due to Our Lady of Corea. According to the Aunt, the miracle was certainly due to one of these Virgins. Captain Tiago did not deny that it was a miracle, but he added:
 
“I do not believe, Isabel, that the Virgin of Antipolo could have done it alone. My friends have aided in it; my future son-in-law, Se?or Linares has, as you know, joked with Se?or Antonio Canovas himself, whose portrait we saw in ‘Illustracion.’”
 
And the good man could not suppress a smile every time that he heard any important news about the event. And there was good reason for it. It was whispered about that Ibarra was going to be hanged; that, even if many proofs [249]had been lacking, at last one had appeared which could confirm the accusation; and that skilled workmen had declared that, as a matter of fact, the work for the school-house could pass for a fort or a fortification. Even if defective in some parts, that was as much as could be expected from ignorant Indians. These rumors quieted the Captain and made him smile.
 
Just as the Captain and his cousin, Aunt Isabel, were of different opinions about the miracle, so, too, the other friends of the family were divided into different parties—those who followed the miracle monger, and those who followed the Government. The latter party, however, was quite insignificant. The miracle mongers were sub-divided into other factions: the Sacristan Mayor of Binondo, the woman who sold the wax candles, and the chief of one of the brotherhoods, all saw the hand of God in the miracle, moved by the Virgin of the Rosary. The Chinese candle maker, who provided the Captain whenever he went on a pilgrimage to Antipolo, was saying as he sat fanning himself and wiggling his foot:
 
“What for you b’long foolish? Thisee belong Mergin Antipolo. She can do muchy more: others, no can do. No b’long plopper say pidgin b’long other man.”
 
Captain Tiago held the Chinaman in great estimation and made him pass for a prophet and doctor. Examining the hand of his deceased wife in the sixth month of her pregnancy, he had prophesied:
 
“If thisee one no b’long man, and no go dead side, will b’long bery good woman.”
 
And so it was that Maria Clara came to this earth and fulfilled the Chinaman’s prophecy.
 
Captain Tiago, being a prudent and timid person, could not decide the question of the miracle as easily as the Trojan Paris. He could not give preference to one of the Virgins for fear of offending some other of them, a thing which might bring about grave results. “Prudence,” he said to himself. “Be prudent! Let us not lose all now.”
 
He was in the midst of these doubts when the party in favor of the Government, or the Governmental party, arrived, viz., Do?a Victorina, Don Tiburcio, and Linares. [250]
 
Do?a Victorina did all the talking for the three men and for herself also. She mentioned the visits which Linares had made to the Governor General, and repeatedly brought out the benefits derived from having a relative of categoría.
 
For some days past, she had been trying to be Andalusian by suppressing the d in all words and in changing the s to z. No one could get the idea out of her head; she would prefer to lose her front curls first.
 
“Yes,” she said, in speaking of Ibarra. “That fellow merits very well all that he is going to get. I told you so when I saw him for the first time. I told you he was a filibustero. What did the General tell you, cousin? What did he say? What news did you give him about Ibarra?”
 
Seeing that the cousin hesitated in his reply, she went on, directing her words to Captain Tiago.
 
“Believe me, if they convict him, as is to be hoped, it will be through my cousin.”
 
“Se?ora, Se?ora!” protested Linares.
 
But she did not give him any time.
 
“Oh, what a diplomat you have turned out to be! But we all know that you are the adviser of the Governor General, that he could not live without you. Ah! What a pleasure to see you, Clarita.”
 
Maria Clara seemed paler than ever, although she was now quite recovered from her illness. Sadly smiling, she approached and greeted Do?a Victorina with a formal kiss.
 
After the customary words had been exchanged, Do?a went on with her false Andalusian.
 
“We came to visit you. You have been saved by the efforts of your friends,”—looking significantly at Linares.
 
“God has protected my father,” said the girl, in a low voice.
 
“Yes, Clarita, but the time for miracles has passed long ago. As we Spaniards say: ‘Have no trust in the Virgin and save yourself by running.’”
 
“The—th—the ot—ot—other way,” said the doctor, correcting her proverbial quotation.
 
Captain Tiago, who had not yet found opportunity to say a word, ventured to ask her, giving much attention [251]to her reply: “So you, Do?a Victorina, believe that the Virgin...?”
 
“That is precisely what we came for, to speak to you about the Virgin,” replied she, indicating Maria Clara. “We have a matter to talk over.”
 
The maiden understood that she ought to retire. She sought an excuse and went away, supporting herself on the furniture as she walked along.
 
What was said in the conference which followed was so low and mean that we prefer to omit it. It is sufficient for us to say that when they took their leave all were happy, and that Captain Tiago afterward said to his cousin:
 
“Isabel, send word to the restaurant that we are going to give a fiesta to-morrow. You get Maria ready to be married in a short time.”
 
Aunt Isabel looked at him, surprised.
 
“You will see! When Se?or Linares is our son-in-law all the palaces will be open to us. They will be envying us; they will all die with envy.”
 
And thus it was that at eight o’clock on the following evening, Captain Tiago’s house was again full of guests, only that this time the men whom he had invited were either Spaniards or Chinamen, while the fair sex was represented by Spaniards born in the Peninsula or in the Philippines.
 
The larger part of our acquaintances was there: Father Sibyla, Father Salví and several other Franciscans and Dominicans, the old lieutenant of the Civil Guard, Se?or Guevara, more melancholy than ever; the alferez, who related his battle for the thousandth time, feeling himself head and shoulders above everybody and a veritable Don Juan de Austria, now a lieutenant with the rank of commander; De Espada?a, who looked at the former with respect and fear and avoided his glance; and the indignant Do?a Victorina. Linares was not yet present, for, being a very important personage, it was fitting that he should arrive later than the others.
 
Maria Clara, the subject of all the gossip, was the center of a group of women. She had greeted and received them ceremoniously, but did not throw off her air of sadness. [252]
 
“Psh!” said one of the girls. “A little stuck-up!”
 
“A cute little thing,” replied another, “but he might have selected some one of a more intelligent appearance.”
 
“It’s the money; he’s a good-looking fellow and sells himself for a good price.”
 
In another part of the room they were talking like this:
 
“Marry, when her former betrothed is about to be hanged!”
 
“I call that prudence; to have one on hand as a substitute.”
 
Possibly the young maiden heard these remarks as she sat in a chair near by, arranging a tray of flowers, for her hand was seen to tremble, she turned pale and bit her lips a number of times.
 
The conversation among the men was in a loud tone. Naturally, they were conversant with the recent happenings. All were talking, even Don Tiburcio, with the exception of Father Sibyla, who maintained a disdainful silence.
 
“I have heard that Your Reverence leaves the town, Father Salví?” asked the newly made lieutenant, now made more amiable by the star on his sleeve.
 
“I have nothing more to do now in San Diego. I am permanently settled in Manila now ... and you?”
 
“I also leave the town,” replied the former alferez, straightening up. “The Government needs me to take command of a flying column to clear the provinces of filibusteros.”
 
Friar Salví looked him over from head to foot, and turned his back to him completely.
 
“Is it yet known for a certainty what is to become of the leader of the revolutionists?” asked a Government employee.
 
“Are you referring to Crisostomo Ibarra?” asked another. “What is most probable and most just is that he be hanged, as those were in ’72.”
 
“He will be exiled,” said the old lieutenant, dryly.
 
“Exiled! Nothing more than exiled! But it will be a perpetual exile!” exclaimed several at the same time.
 
“If that young fellow,” Lieutenant Guevara went on to [253]say in a loud voice, “had been more cautious; if he had trusted certain people less with whom he had correspondence; and if the officers had not made a subtle interpretation of what was written—if it had not been for all of this, that young man would surely have gone free.”
 
This statement by the old lieutenant and the tone of his voice produced a great surprise in the room. Those who heard it did not know what to say. Father Salví looked in another direction, perhaps so as not to meet the dark look which the old man directed toward him. Maria Clara dropped her flowers and sat motionless. Father Sibyla, the one who knew how to keep silent, appeared to be the only one who knew how to ask questions.
 
“Are you referring to the letters, Se?or Guevara?”
 
“I am telling what the defendant’s attorney told me. He has taken up the case with zeal and interest. Aside from some ambiguous lines which this young man wrote to a young woman before departi............