“Orderly, tell this woman in Tagalog to sing!” said the alfereza. “She don’t understand me; she does not know Spanish.”
The demented woman understood the orderly and sang the song “Night.”
Doña Consolacion listened to the beginning with a mocking smile which disappeared gradually from her lips. She became attentive, then more serious and pensive. The woman’s voice, the sentiment of the verses and the song itself impressed her. That dry and burning heart was perhaps softened. She understood the song well: “Sadness, cold, and dampness, wrapped in the mantle of Night descend from the sky,” as the folk song puts it. It seemed that they were also descending upon her heart. “The withered flower which during the day has paraded its dress, desirous of applause and full of vanity, at nightfall repenting, makes an effort to raise its faded petals to the sky, and begs for a little shade in which to hide itself, so as to die without the mockery of the light which saw it in its pomp, to die without the vanity of its pride being seen, and begging for a drop of dew, to weep over it. The night bird, leaving its solitary retreat in the hollow of the old tree, disturbs the melancholy of the forests....”
“No, no! Do not sing!” exclaimed the alfereza in perfect Tagalog and raising to her feet somewhat agitated. “Don’t sing! Those verses hurt me!”
The demented woman stopped. The orderly muttered “Bah!” and exclaimed “She knows how to patá Tagalog!” and stood looking at the señora full of surprise.
The Muse understood that she had been caught, and was ashamed. As her nature was not that of a woman, her shame took the form of rage and hatred. She pointed out the door to the impudent orderly and with a kick closed it behind him. She took several turns about the room, twisting a whip between her nervous hands, and then, stopping suddenly in front of the demented woman, said in Spanish: “Dance!”
The demented one did not move.
“Dance! Dance!” she repeated in a threatening voice.
The poor woman looked at the Señora, her eyes devoid of expression. The alfereza raised one arm and then the other, shaking them in a menacing way.
She then leaped up in the air, and jumped around urging the other woman to imitate her. The band in the procession could be heard playing a slow, majestic march, but the Señora, leaping about furiously was keeping time to different music than that the band was playing, that music which resounded within her. A curious look appeared in the madwoman’s eyes, and a weak smile moved her pale lips. She liked the Señora’s dancing.