There in the dining-room Captain Tiago, Linares, and Aunt Isabel were eating supper. In the sala the rattling of plate and tableware was heard. Maria Clara had said that she did not care to eat and had seated herself at the piano. By her side was jolly Sinang, who murmured little secrets in Maria’s ear, while Father Salví uneasily paced the sala.  
It was not because the convalescent had no appetite that she was not eating. It was because she was awaiting the arrival of a certain person and had taken advantage of the moment in which her Argus could not be present, the hour when Linares ate.
 
“You will see how that ghost will stay till eight o’clock,” murmured Sinang, pointing to the curate. “At eight o’clock he ought to come. This priest is as much in love as Linares.”
 
Maria Clara looked at her friend, frightened. The latter, without noticing her expression, continued her terrible gossip:
 
“Ah! Now I know why he doesn’t go, in spite of all my hints. He doesn’t want to burn the lamps in the convent. Don’t you see? Ever since you fell ill, he has had the two lights which he used to burn, put out. But look at his eyes and his face!”
 
Just at that moment the clock in the house struck eight. The curate trembled and went and sat down in a corner of the room.
 
“He is coming,” said Sinang, pinching Maria Clara. “Do you hear?”
 
The bell in the church tolled eight and all arose to pray. Father Salví, with a weak and trembling voice, led, but, as each one had his own thoughts, nobody paid any attention to him. [224]
 
The prayer had scarcely ended, when Ibarra presented himself. The young man was wearing mourning, not only in his dress, but in his face. In fact, it was so evident that Maria Clara, on seeing him, arose and took a step toward him as if to ask what ailed him, but at the same instant a discharge of musketry was heard. Ibarra stopped, his eyes rolled and he was unable to speak. The curate hid himself behind a pillar. More shooting and more noise was heard in the direction of the convent, followed by cries and the sound of people running. Captain Tiago, Aunt Isabel and Linares entered the room, hurriedly crying “tulisan! tulisan!” Andeng followed them, brandishing a spit and ran toward her foster sister.
 
Aunt Isabel fell on her knees and prayed the Kyrie eleison. Captain Tiago, pale and trembling, carried a chicken’s liver on his fork, and, in tears, offered it to the Virgin of Antipolo. Linares had his mouth full and was armed with a spoon. Sinang and Maria Clara embraced each other. The only person who did not move was Ibarra. He stood as if petrified, his face indescribably pale.
 
The cries and blows continued, the windows were shut with a bang, a whistle was heard, and occasionally a shot.
 
“Christe eleison! Santiago, fasten the windows,” groaned Aunt Isabel.
 
“Fifty great bombs and a thanksgiving mass,” replied Captain Tiago. “Ora pro nobis!”
 
After a time, things quieted down and there was a terrible silence. The voice of the alferez was distinguished, as he came running in, and crying: “Father curate! Father Salví! Come!”
 
“Misere! The alferez is asking for confession!” cried Aunt Isabel.
 
“Is he wounded?” asked Linares at last. “Ah!”
 
“Come, Father Salví! There is nothing to fear now,” continued the alferez, shouting.
 
Father Salví, pale, and decided at last, came out of his hiding-place and went downstairs.
 
“The tulisanes have killed the alferez!” said Aunt Isabel.
 
“Maria Clara, Sinang, go to your room! Fasten the door! Kyrie eleison!”
 
Ibarra also went toward the stairs, in spite of Aunt [225]Isabel, who was saying: “Don’t go out! You haven’t confessed yet. Don’t go out!”
 
The good old woman had been a great friend of Ibarra’s mother.
 
But Ibarra left the house. It seemed to him that all about him was revolving through the air, that even the ground was gone from under his feet. His ears buzzed. His legs moved heavily and irregularly. Waves of blood, light and darkness, succeeded one another on the retina of his eye.
 
Despite the fact that the moon was shining brightly in the heavens, the young man stumbled on every stone in the solitary and deserted street.
 
Near the cuartel he saw some soldiers with their bayonets fixed, talking excitedly. He passed by unseen.
 
In the tribunal, blows, cries, wails, and curses were heard. The alferez’s voice drowned all the others.
 
“Put him in the stocks! Put handcuffs on that fellow! Two shots for whoever moves! Sergeant, you will mount your guard! Let no one pass, not even God! Corporal, let no one sleep!”
 
Ibarra hastened his steps toward his house. His servants were uneasily awaiting him.
 
“Saddle the best horse and go to bed!” said he to them.
 
He entered his laboratory and hurriedly began to get his travelling bag ready. He opened an iron box, took out all the money which he found there and put it in a bag. He gathered his jewels together, took down a picture of Maria Clara which was hanging upon the wall, and, arming himself with a dirk and two revolvers, he turned to the cupboard where he had some tools.
 
At that instant, three blows, loud and strong, sounded on the door.
 
“Who’s there?” asked Ibarra, in a doleful voice.
 
“Open in the name of the King! Open the door at once, or we will knock it down!” replied an imperious Spanish voice.
 
Ibarra looked toward the window. His eyes flashed and he cocked his revolver. But changing his m............