“Señor Alcalde,” said Ibarra, “if mourning won’t raise the dead, neither will the imprisonment of a man whose guilt is not proven. I go security for his person and ask his liberty, for these fête days at least.”
“Very well! But let him not repeat it!” said the alcalde.
All kinds of rumors circulated among the people. The idea of a miracle was generally accepted. Many said they had seen descend into the trench at the fatal moment a figure in a dark costume, like that of the Franciscans. ’Twas no doubt San Diego himself.
“A bad beginning,” muttered old Tasio, shaking his head as he moved away.
XXVII.
Free Thought.
Ibarra, who had gone home for a change of clothing, had just finished dressing when a servant announced that a peasant wished to see him. Supposing it to be one of his laborers, he had him taken to his work room, which was at the same time his library and chemical laboratory. To his great surprise he found himself face to face with the mysterious Elias.
“You saved my life,” said the man, speaking in Tagalo, and understanding the movement of Ibarra. “I have not half paid my debt. Do not thank me. It is I who should thank you. I have come to ask a favor.”
“Speak!” said his listener.