[3] A light, early breakfast.
[4] A native fruit.
Chapter XII.
In the Woods.
Very early that morning Father Salví had said mass, cleaning, according to his custom, a dozen dirty souls in a few minutes. The reading of a few letters, which had arrived well sealed with wax, seemed to cause the worthy curate to lose his appetite, for he allowed his chocolate to get cold.
“The Father is ill,” said the cook as he prepared another cup. “It is several days since he has eaten anything; of six dishes which I put on the table for him, he has not touched two.”
“It must be that he does not sleep well,” replied the servant. “He has nightmare since he changed his bedroom. Every day his eyes are sinking deeper, he grows gradually thinner, and is very yellow.”
As a matter of fact, it was a pitiful sight to behold Father Salví. He did not care to touch his second cup of chocolate, nor to taste the Cebu cakes. He walked pensively to and fro in the spacious sala, crumpling between his bony fingers some letters which he would read from time to time. Finally, he called for his carriage, got ready and ordered the coachman to take him to the woods where the picnic was to be held. Arriving at the place, Father Salví dismissed the carriage and all alone, entered the forest.
A shady but difficult path runs through the thicket and leads to the brook which is formed by the hot springs so plentiful at the base of Mount Makiling.