Chapter XL.
The Pursuit on the Lake.
“Listen, Señor, to my plan,” said Elias, as they directed the banca toward San Miguel. “I will for the present hide you in the house of my friend in Mandaluyong. I will bring you all your money, which I have saved and kept for you at the foot of the old balitî tree, in the mysterious tomb of your grandfather. You shall leave the country.”
“To go to a strange land?” interrupted Ibarra.
“To live in peace the remaining days of your life. You have friends in Spain, you are rich, you can get yourself pardoned. By all means, a foreign land is better for you than your own country.”
Crisostomo did not reply. He meditated in silence.
Just then they reached the Pasig and the banca was headed up the stream. Over the Bridge of Spain a horse-man was galloping at high speed, and a prolonged, sharp whistle was heard.
“Elias,” replied Ibarra, “you owe your misfortunes to my family; you have saved my life twice; I owe you not only gratitude, but also restitution of your fortune. You advise me to go to a foreign land and live; then come with me and we will live like brothers. Here, you, too, are miserable.”
Elias sadly replied:
“Impossible! It is true that I can neither love nor be happy in my country; but I can suffer and die in it, and perhaps die for it; that would be something. Let my country’s misfortune be my own misfortune. Since no noble thought unites us, and since our hearts do not beat in harmony at the mention of a single word, at least, let a common misery unite me to my fellow countrymen; at least, let me weep with them over our grief; let the same misery oppress all our hearts.”