[1] A Chinese gambling game.
[2] A little white, pearl-like substance sometimes found in the cacao tree, which is supposed to be a lucky omen.
Chapter XV.
As Night Comes On.
Great preparations had also been made in the house of Captain Tiago. We are already acquainted with the man. His love for pomp and his pride in being a resident of Manila made it necessary that he should outdo the residents of the province in the splendor of his celebration. There was another thing, too, which made it necessary that he should try to eclipse all others—the fact that his daughter Maria Clara and his future son-in-law were also there. His prospective connection with Ibarra caused the Captain to be often spoken of among the people.
Yes, as a matter of fact, one of the most serious newspapers in Manila had printed an article on its first page, headed “Imitate Him!” in which they offered Ibarra much advice and highly eulogized him. The article spoke of him as “the illustrious and rich young capitalist.” Two lines below, he was termed “the distinguished philanthropist,” and, in the following paragraph, referred to as the “disciple of Minerva who went to his Mother Country to salute the real birthplace of arts and sciences.” Captain Tiago was burning with generous emulation and was wondering whether he ought not to erect a convent at his own expense.
Days before the week of festivities, numerous boxes of provisions and drinks, colossal mirrors, pictures, paintings and his daughter’s piano had arrived at the house. Maria Clara and Aunt Isabel were already living there. Captain Tiago came on the day before the beginning of the festival. As he kissed his daughter’s hand, he made her a present of a beautiful religious relic. It was solid gold, and set with diamonds and emeralds, and contained a little sliver from Saint Peter’s boat, in which Our Saviour sat while fishing.
The Captain’s interview with his future son-in-law could not have been more cordial. Naturally, the school house was the subject of conversation. Captain Tiago wanted him to call the school “The San Francisco School.”
“Believe me!” he said. “San Francisco is a good patron saint. If you call it ‘The Primary School,’ you gain nothing. Who is Primary, anyway?”