“My sickness and my work have not permitted me to return, since the day of the funeral,” said the old servant timidly. “Captain Tiago said that he would see to it that a niche2 was arranged for, but I planted some flowers on the grave and erected3 a cross made by my own hands.”
Ibarra did not reply.
“Right there behind that large cross, se?or,” continued the servant, making a gesture toward one of the corners just as they passed through the gate.
Ibarra was so preoccupied4 with sad thoughts that he did not notice the astonishment5 which some of the people in the cemetery manifested when they saw him enter. Those who were kneeling broke off their prayers and followed the young man, their eyes full of curiosity.
Ibarra walked along very carefully, and avoided stepping on the graves, which could be easily distinguished6 by the sunken ground. In other times he had walked over them; but to-day he respected them. His father lay in one of them. On coming to the other side of the large cross, he stopped and looked in all directions. His companion was confused and out of countenance7. He searched for marks on the ground but could not find the cross anywhere.
“Is it here?” he murmured between his teeth. “No, it is over there, but the earth has been removed.” [48]
“Yes,” he continued. “I remember that there was a stone by the side of the grave. The grave was a little short, a farm hand had to dig it, as the grave-digger was sick at the time, but we will ask him what he has done with the cross.”
They turned toward the grave-digger, who looked at them with curiosity. He saluted9 them, taking off his hat.
“Can you tell us which of the graves over there is the one which had a cross?” asked the servant.
The grave-digger looked toward the place and seemed to reflect. “A large cross?”
“Yes, a large cross,” answered the old man with joy, looking significantly at Ibarra, whose face was somewhat animated10.
“An ornamented11 cross, and fastened with reeds?” repeated the grave-digger, questioning the servant.
“That’s it, that’s it, yes, yes! Like this, like this,” and the servant traced an outline of a Byzantine cross.
“And were there some flowers sown on the grave?”
“Adelphas, sampagas and pansies! That’s it,” added the servant, delighted, and offering the grave-digger a cigar. “Tell us where the grave is and where the cross.”
The grave-digger scratched his ear and replied, yawning: “Well, the cross—I have already burned it up.”
“Burned it? and why have you burned it?”
“Because the head priest so ordered.”
“Who is the head priest?” asked Ibarra.
“Who? The one who does the whipping.”
Ibarra put his hand to his head.
“But you can at least tell us where the grave is? You ought to remember.”
The grave-digger smiled. “The body is no longer there,” he replied tranquilly12.
“What do you say?”
“Yes, no longer,” the man added in a joking tone. “Only a week ago I buried a woman in its place.”
“Are you crazy?” the servant asked. “Why, it is not yet a year since we buried him.” [49]
“Then that is the one, for it was many months ago that I took up the body. The head priest of the parish ordered me to do it, in order to bury it in the Chinese cemetery. But as it was heavy and it was raining that night——”
The man could not finish. He stepped back, half frightened at the expression on Crisostomo’s face. Ibarra made a rush at him, and, grabbing him by the arm, shook him.
“And what did you do?” the young man asked, in an indescribable tone.
“Honored sir, do not get angry,” he replied, pale and trembling. “I did not bury the body among the Chinese. In my opinion a person might better be a suicide than be buried among the Chinese. I threw the body into the lake.”
Ibarra laid both his hands on the man’s shoulders and looked at him for a long time in a terrifying manner. “You are only an unfortunate fellow,” he said, at last, and left the place on a run across bones, graves, and crosses, like a madman.
The grave-digger felt of his arm and murmured: “What would they do with the dead! The head priest whips me with his cane13 for having left the body in the cemetery when I was sick. Now this fellow comes along and nearly breaks my arm for having taken it up. That is just like the Spaniards! I’ll lose my place yet.”
Ibarra went on in great haste, keeping his eyes fixed14 in the distance. The old servant followed him, crying. Already the sun was hidden; a large, dark cloud hung over the western horizon; and a dry wind bent15 the tops of the trees and made the fields of sugar cane groan16. With hat in hand, he went on. Not one tear dropped from his eye, not one sigh came from his breast. He hurried on as if he were fleeing from somebody, or something—perhaps the shade of his father, perhaps the tempest which was approaching. He hurried through the town and headed toward the outlying country, toward that old house which he had not entered for so many years. The house was surrounded by a wall, near which many cacti17 grew, and as he approached they seemed to [50]signal to him. The windows seemed to open, the ilang-ilang joyfully18 waved its branches, and the doves fluttered about the little tower on the peak of their garden house.
But the young man did not notice these signs of welcome on his return to his old home. His eyes were riveted19 on the form of a priest who was advancing from the opposite direction. It was the priest of San Diego, that meditative20 Franciscan, the enemy of the alferez whom we have mentioned. The wind was playing with the wide wings of his hat, and the robe of guingon was flattened21 out, moulded by the wind to the outline of his form, marking his slender thighs22 and bow-legs. In his right hand he carried a cane. It was the first time that he and Ibarra had met.
As they approached each other, the young man stopped and looked at him fixedly23. Father Salvi avoided the look and was somewhat distracted. This vacillation24 lasted only a moment. Ibarra made a rush toward him, and stopped the priest from falling only by grasping his shoulder. Then, in a voice scarcely intelligible25, he exclaimed:
“What have you done with my father?”
Friar Salvi, pale and trembling, as he read the unmistakable sentiments which were depicted26 on the young man’s face, could not reply.
“What have you done with my father?” he asked again, his voice almost choking him.
The priest, shrinking from the tight grasp of Ibarra’s hand, at last made a great effort and said: “You are mistaken. I have done nothing with your father.”
“What? No?” continued the young man, the weight of his hand on the priest’s shoulder almost making him kneel.
“No, I assure you. It was my predecessor27. It was Father Dámaso——”
“Ah!” exclaimed the young man, throwing the priest down and giving him a slap in the face. And leaving Father Salvi, he turned quickly and went toward the house.
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1
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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4
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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7
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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9
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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14
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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15
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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cacti
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| n.（复）仙人掌 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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19
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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22
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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23
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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24
vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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26
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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27
predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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