While Captain Tiago was fighting his lásak against the bulik, Do?a Victorina took a walk through the town, with the intention of seeing the condition of the indolent natives, and of their houses and fields. She had dressed as elegantly as she could, putting all her ribbons and flowers on her silk gown, in order to impress the provincials, and make them see how great a distance was between them and her sacred person. Giving her arm to her lame husband, she fluttered through the streets of the town, among the stupefied and wondering inhabitants. Cousin Linares had remained in the house.  
“What ugly houses these natives have,” began Do?a Victorina, making a grimace. “I don’t know how they can live there: one must be a native to do it. They meet us and don’t uncover their heads! Hit them over the head as the curates and tenientes of the Guardia Civil do when they don’t take off their hats. Teach them manners.”
 
“And if they hit me?” asked Dr. de Espada?a.
 
“Aren’t you a man?”
 
“Bu—bu—but, I am la—la—lame.”
 
Do?a Victorina was becoming bad-humored. The streets were not paved, and the train of her gown was covered with dust. Besides, they met many young women, who, on passing her, cast down their eyes and did not admire her lavish dress as they should have done. Sinang’s coachman, who was driving her and her cousin in an elegant carriage, had the impudence to call out tabi1 to them in such a warning voice that she had to get out of the way, and was only able to exclaim, “Look at that brute of a coachman! I am going to tell his master that he should educate his servants better!” [183]
 
“Let us go back to the house,” she ordered her husband.
 
He, fearing that there was going to be a storm, turned on his heels and obeyed the command.
 
They met the alferez on the way back and greeted him. He increased the discontent of Do?a Victorina, for he not only failed to compliment her on her dress, but surveyed it almost with a mocking manner.
 
“You ought not to extend your hand to a simple alferez,” said she to her husband as soon as they were some distance away. “He scarcely touches his helmet, and you take off your hat. You don’t know how to maintain your rank.”
 
“He is ch—ch—chief here!”
 
“And what does that matter to us? Are we, perchance, natives?”
 
“You are right,” replied he, not wishing to quarrel.
 
They passed by the officer’s house. Do?a Consolacion was in the window, as usual, dressed in her flannel outfit and smoking her cigar. As the house was rather low, they could see each other as they passed, and Do?a Victorina could distinguish her very well. The Muse of the Guardia Civil examined her with tranquillity from head to foot, and, afterward, sticking out her lower lip, spit, turning her face to the other side. That put an end to Do?a Victorina’s patience, and, leaving her husband without any support, she squared herself in front of the alfereza, trembling with rage, and unable to speak. Do?a Consolacion turned her head slowly, looked her over again, and then spit again, but with still greater disdain.
 
“What is the matter with you, Do?a?” said the alfereza.
 
“Can you tell me, Se?ora, why you look at me so? Are you envious?” Do?a Victorina finally succeeded in saying.
 
“I envious of you?” said the Medusa with scorn. “O, yes! I envy those curls.”
 
“Come, wife!” said the doctor. “Do—don’t take no—no—notice of her!”
 
“Let me give this shameless common person a lesson!” replied the woman, giving her husband a push. He nearly fell to the ground. Turning to Do?a Consolacion, she continued:
 
“Look how you treat me! Don’t think that I am a provincial, or a soldiers’ querida! In my house in Manila [184]alferezas never are allowed to come in. They wait at the door.”
 
“Oh-oh! Most Excellent Se?ora! Alferezas don’t enter, but invalids like that out there. Ha, ha, ha!”
 
If it hadn’t been for all the paint on her face, one could have seen Do?a Victorina blush. She wanted to throw herself upon her enemy, but the sentry stopped her. In the meantime, the street was filling up with curious people.
 
“Listen! I lower myself talking with you. People of categoría ... Do you want my clothes to wash? I will pay you well. Do you think that I don’t know that you are a washerwoman?”
 
Do?a Consolacion became furious. The reference to her being a washerwoman wounded her.
 
“Do you think that we do not know what you are? Get out! My husband has already told me. Se?ora, I, at least, have not belonged to more than one man, but you? One must be pretty hard up to take the leavings.”
 
This shot struck Do?a Victorina square in the breast. She rolled up her sleeves, clenched her fists, and, gnashing her teeth, began:
 
“Come down here, you nasty old thing, that I may smash your filthy mouth.”
 
The Medusa disappeared quickly from the window, but was soon seen coming down the stairs on a run, swinging her husband’s whip.
 
Don Tiburcio interposed, pleading with them, but they would have come to blows if the alferez had not arrived.
 
“But, se?oras!... Don Tiburcio!”
 
“Teach your woman better; buy her better clothes. If you haven’t the money, rob the people. You have your soldier............