“No, thank you! My own mind suffices for rambling and dreaming,” replied the philosopher, laughing. “But I have a question to propose. Have you ever observed the strange nature of our people? Pacific, they love warlike spectacles; democratic, they adore emperors, kings, and princes; irreligious, they ruin themselves in the pomps of the ritual; the nature of our women is gentle, but they have deliriums of delight when a princess brandishes a lance. Do you know the cause of all this? Well——”
The arrival of Maria Clara and her friends cut short the conversation. Don Filipo accompanied them to their places. Then came the curate, with his usual retinue.
The evening began with Chananay and Marianito in “Crispino and the Gossip.” The scene fixed the attention of every one. The act was ending when Ibarra entered. His coming excited a murmur, and eyes turned from him to the curate. But Crisóstomo observed nothing. He gracefully saluted Maria and her friends and sat down. The only one who spoke to him was Sinang.
“Have you been watching the fireworks?” she asked.
“No, little friend, I had to accompany the governor-general.”
“That was too bad!”
Brother Salvi had risen, gone to Don Filipo, and appeared to be having with him a serious discussion. He spoke with heat, the lieutenant calmly and quietly.
“I am sorry not to be able to satisfy your reverence, but Señor Ibarra is one of the chief contributors to the fête, and has a perfect right to be here so long as he creates no disturbance.”
“But is it not creating a disturbance to scandalize all good Christians?”
“Father,” replied Don Filipo, “my slight authority does not permit me to interfere in religious matters. Let those who fear Señor Ibarra’s contact avoid him: he forces himself upon no one; the señor alcalde and the captain-general have been in his company all the afternoon; it hardly becomes me to give them a lesson.”