It was about ten o’clock at night. The last rockets lazily soared into the dark sky, where paper balloons shone like new stars. Some of the fireworks had set fire to houses and were threatening them with destruction; for this reason men could be seen on the ridges of the roofs carrying buckets of water and long bamboo poles with cloths tied on the ends. Their dark shadows seemed descended from ethereal space to be present at the rejoicings of human beings. An enormous number of wheels had been burned, also castles, bulls, caraboas and other pieces of fireworks, and finally a great volcano, which surpassed in beauty and grandeur anything that the inhabitants of San Diego had ever seen.  
Now the people turned in one great crowd toward the plaza to attend the last theatrical performance. Here and there could be seen the colored Bengal lights, fantastically illuminating groups of merry people. The small boys were making use of their torches to search for unexploded firecrackers in the grass, or, in fact, for anything else that might be of use to them. But the music was the signal and all abandoned the lawn for the theatre.
 
The large platform was splendidly illuminated. Thousands of lights surrounded the pillars and hung from the roof, while a number, in pyramid-shaped groups, were arranged on the floor of the stage. An employee attended to these and whenever he would come forward to regulate them, the public would whistle at him and shout: “There he is! There he is now!”
 
In front of the stage, the orchestra tuned its instruments, and behind the musicians sat the principal people of the town. Spaniards and rich visitors were occupying the reserved chairs. The public, the mass of people without [138]titles or rank, filled the rest of the plaza. Some carried with them benches, not so much for seats as to remedy their lack of stature. When they stood upon them, rude protests were made on the part of those without benches or things to stand on. Then they would get down immediately, but soon mount up on their pedestals again as if nothing had happened.
 
Comings and goings, cries, exclamations, laughter, squibs that had been slow in going off, and firecrackers increased the tumult. Here, a foot broke through a bench, and some one fell to the floor, while the crowd laughed and made a show of him who had come so far to see a show. There, they fought and disputed over positions, and, a little farther on, the noise of breaking bottles and glasses could be heard: it was Andeng. She was carrying drinks and refreshments on a tray which she was balancing with both hands, but she had met her lover and he tried to take advantage of her helplessness by tickling....
 
The teniente mayor presided at the production since the gobernadorcillo was fonder of monte.
 
Maria Clara and her friends had arrived, and Don Filipo received them, and accompanied them to their seats. Behind came the curate with another Franciscan and some Spaniards. With the curate were some other people who make it their business to escort the friars.
 
“May God reward them in another life,” said the old man, referring to them as he walked away from Maria Clara’s party.
 
The performance began with Chananay and Marianito in Crispinoé la Comare. Everybody had eyes and ears intent upon the stage, except one, Father Salví. He seemed to have come to the theatre for no other purpose than to watch Maria Clara, whose sadness gave to her beauty an air so ideal and interesting that everybody looked upon her with rapture. But the Franciscan’s eyes, deeply hidden in their hollow orbits, spoke no words of rapture. In that sombre look one could read something desperately sad. With such eyes Cain might have contemplated from afar the Paradise whose delights his mother had pictured to him. [139]
 
The act was just ending when Ibarra arrived. His presence occasioned a buzz of conversation. The attention of everybody was fixed on him and on the curate.
 
But the young man did not seem to be aware of it, for he greeted Maria Clara and her friends with naturalness and sat down at their side. The only one who spoke was Sinang.
 
“Did you see the volcano when they touched it off?” she asked.
 
“No, my little friend. I had to accompany the Governor General.”
 
“Well, that is too bad! The curate came with us and he was telling us stories about condemned people. What do you think? Doesn’t he do it to make us afraid so that we cannot enjoy ourselves? How does it appear to you?”
 
The curate arose and approached Don Filipo, with whom he seemed to be having a lively discussion. He was speaking with animation and Don Filipo replying with moderation and in a low voice.
 
“I am sorry that I cannot please Your Reverence,” said the latter. “Se?or Ibarra is one of the heaviest tax-payers and has a right to sit here as long as he does not disturb the public order.”
 
“But is not scandalizing good Christians disturbing the public order? You let a wolf into the flock. You will be held responsible for this before God and before the authorities of the town.”
 
“I always hold myself responsible for acts which emanate from my own will, Father,” replied Don Filipo, slightly inclining his head. “But my little authority does not give me power to meddle in religious affairs. Those who wish to avoid contact with him do not have to speak to him. Se?or Ibarra does not force himself on any one.”
 
“But he affords danger. He who loves danger perishes in it.”
 
“I don’t see any danger, Father. The Alcalde and the Governor General, my superiors, have been talking with him all the afternoon, and it is not for me to give them a lesson.”
 
“If you don’t put him out of here, we will leave.” [140]
 
“I am very, very sorry, but I cannot put any one out of here.”
 
The curate repented having said what he did, but now there was no alternative. He made a signal to his companion, who laboriously rose to his feet and both went out. The persons attached to the friars imitated the priests, not, however, without first glancing with hatred at Ibarra.
 
Murmurs and whispers increased. Then various persons approached and saluted the young man and said:
 
“We are with you. Take no notice of them.”
 
“Who are ’them’?” he asked with surprise.
 
“Those who have gone out in order to avoid contact with you.”
 
“To avoid contact with me? Contact with me?”
 
“Yes, they say that you are excommunicated.”
 
Ibarra, surprised, did not know what to say and looked around him. He saw Maria Clara, who was hiding her face behind her fan.
 
“But is it possible?” he exclaimed at last. “Are we still in the darkness of the Middle Ages? So that——”
 
And turning to the young women and changing his tone, he said:
 
“Excuse me; I have forgotten an appointment. I will return to accompany you home.”
 
“Stay!” said Sinang. “Yeyeng is going to dance in the ‘La Calandria.’ She dances divinely.”
 
“I cannot, my little friend, but I will certainly return.”
 
The murmurs increased.
 
While Yeyeng, dressed in the style of the lower class of Madrid, was coming on the stage with the remark: “Da Usté su permiso?” (Do you give your permission?) and as Carvajal was replying to her “Pase usté adelante” (Pass forward), two soldiers of the Civil Guard approached Don Filipo, asking him to suspend the performance.
 
“And what for?” asked he, surprised at the request.
 
“Because the alferez and his Se?ora have been fighting and they cannot sleep.”
 
“You tell the a............