“Is he wounded?” asked Linares at last. “Ah!”
“Come, Father Salví! There is nothing to fear now,” continued the alferez, shouting.
Father Salví, pale, and decided at last, came out of his hiding-place and went downstairs.
“The tulisanes have killed the alferez!” said Aunt Isabel.
“Maria Clara, Sinang, go to your room! Fasten the door! Kyrie eleison!”
Ibarra also went toward the stairs, in spite of Aunt Isabel, who was saying: “Don’t go out! You haven’t confessed yet. Don’t go out!”
The good old woman had been a great friend of Ibarra’s mother.
But Ibarra left the house. It seemed to him that all about him was revolving through the air, that even the ground was gone from under his feet. His ears buzzed. His legs moved heavily and irregularly. Waves of blood, light and darkness, succeeded one another on the retina of his eye.
Despite the fact that the moon was shining brightly in the heavens, the young man stumbled on every stone in the solitary and deserted street.
Near the cuartel he saw some soldiers with their bayonets fixed, talking excitedly. He passed by unseen.