“Maria!” exclaimed her friends.
“I had nothing else,” she said, forcing back the tears.
“What will he do with the reliquary? He can’t sell it! Nobody will touch it now! If only it could be eaten!” said Sinang.
But the leper went to the basket, took the glittering thing in his hands, fell on his knees, kissed it, and bent his head to the ground, uncovering humbly. Maria Clara turned her face to hide the tears.
As the leper knelt, a woman crept up and knelt beside him. By her long, loose hair and emaciated face the people recognized Sisa. The leper, feeling her touch, sprang up with a cry; but, to the horror of the crowd, she clung to his arm.
“Pray! Pray!” said she. “It is the Feast of the Dead! These lights are the souls of men. Pray for my sons!”
“Separate them! Separate them!” cried the crowd; but no one dared do it.
“Do you see the light in the tower? That is my son Basilio, ringing the bells. Do you see that other in the manse? That is my son Crispin; but I cannot go to them, because the curate is ill, and his money is lost. I carried the curate fruit from my garden. My garden was full of flowers, and I had two sons. I had a garden, I tended my flowers, and I had two sons.”
And leaving the leper she moved away, singing:
“I had a garden and flowers. I had two sons, a garden and flowers.”