“And so do I. But do you know what it was?” asked a man with a crafty face.
“Certainly. The cuaderilleros.”
“No, Señor. An uprising at the cuartel.”
“What uprising? The curate against the alferez?”
“No, nothing of the sort,” said he who had asked the question. “The Chinese have risen in revolt.”
And he closed his window again.
“The Chinese!” repeated all, with the greatest astonishment.
In a quarter of an hour other versions of the affair were in circulation. Ibarra, with his servants, it was said, had tried to steal Maria Clara, and Captain Tiago, aided by the Guardia Civil had defended her.
By this time the number of the dead was no longer fourteen, but thirty. Captain Tiago, it was said, was wounded and was going right off to Manila with his family.
The arrival of two cuaderilleros, carrying a human form in a wheelbarrow, and followed by a Civil Guard, produced a great sensation. It was supposed that they came from the convent. From the form of the feet which were hanging down, they tried to guess who it could be. By half-past seven, when other Civil Guards arrived from neighboring towns, the current version of the affair was already clear and detailed.